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by K.HBey
Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2199428
Childhood memories which are linked to the mother remain alive.This is her mourning.

Years later, I come to my dwelling to my cradle,
With an open heart and a myriad of hope,
In the path to my home I see the flowers and smell roses,
I build castles with my fresh love and affection,
To mine,

Then I perceive my deceased mother,
My mother smoothly used to comb my hair and made my braids,
With her soft hands waked me early for school,
At night when I am cold and afraid she wrapped up me with her warmth,
Amazing stories she told me and cradled me with her faith,
The day with her in the kitchen she made me delicious dishes,
Her hands released honey and her corps smelt musk,

Little was the house that I used to see from afar when coming back from school,
But love, light and laughers rendered it broad,
The morning, sun rays were shimmering my corps,
Joy I felt to live again a new day with her,
Her smile like an immense sparkled light inspired me hope,

However, when I arrive to my home, just despair invades my spirit,
I am lost, my mother, my home is not there,
Like cards castle my hope drops,
My dream falls apart,

Now the house is empty and chilly,
Crackles are on its walls and it seems haunted,
Walls are crying pain, suffering and despair,
Out of breath and feelings and just a cynical silence is settled,
The house is like a corps without a soul,

Sun rays abandoned the house,
Lugubrious is its surrounding,
Just darkness hides it and cemetery it becomes,
A bitter loneliness peevish me,
Life is jeopardized.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199428