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We'll leave the light on for you.
Sunlight opens my memories
forty-eight hour labor
cherishes us like no one
eyes that traveled in time.
Dancing a samba all our lives
we stepped forward with her
loving embrace around us
every song was ours.
Living in syncopated rhythm
she umbrellaed our lives
storms feared her wrath
I love you, Mom.
Hovering haze
twinkle my eyes loving
the litany of joys
Sweetly praised
in my mama’s gaze
forested groves
Brings me home
to the treasures i crave
mystically bold
her love to hold
crested emotions
heart beat devotion
mellifluously shines
under a golden sky
larger than life
“The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.”
It’s Mama who sings the lullaby to the little Christian babe.
Says the mantra for the Hindus mild,
Turns her face to Mecca for the Islam child.
Mama, we are always your most willing slave.
This place is your Empire,
To your loving will we cave.
Mother true
Always there for you
Trusting always understanding
Not demanding
As I get older I have you to cry on my shoulder
As I get older you change your ways
Mother you always pleased me
Now I’m prepared for you to release me
Into a world that will receive me
POEM BY KARL WOMACK