Mum
When the final silenceSettled soft upon her chest
I lifted up her favourite drink
And whispered Mum, at last you rest
I smiled not for her leaving
But for the peace she finally won
For the gentle soul I once called Mum
No longer trapped in what she’d become
A celebration quiet honest
For the ending of her fight
And the hope that somewhere somehow
She stepped back into the light.
Poetry by JohnJohn
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Written on 2026-07-09 at 11:55
|
Melinda K Zarate |
| Texts |
by JohnJohnLatest textsMumGone A bronze Antoninianus from an english hamlet Not a perennial |