Mother Was a Poem Written by a Child




In Heaven today, Mother arrived.


They all came to meet her.

Wouldn’t let her go.

The welcome was that warm.


She waited to ask after you,

waited till the time was right.


Then, thought of you often.

As you often think of her now.


All the time.




In Heaven, Mother leaned out over the Earth.


And with eyes sharper than anything,

anything we have, she found you, easy.


She saw everything easy.

Saw the tears holding.

Saw those that fell.


And leaning out, she wanted to help.




In Heaven, Mothers wait.


They wait because the

welcome is truly that

warm—when all is said

and done, and the time

is right. The welcome

is waiting.


And it is warm.


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