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She
came to me in my dreams again last night
as she
so very often does.
She
was as graceful and as beautiful as ever.
I
recall fondly the delicate fragrance of her hair
As
she giggled at me.
I
remember the softness of her touch
As
she caressed my young blonde hair.
(For
you see in that dream I am always young…)
I
could almost smell the apple pie baking in the oven
As I
sat at the old kitchen table,
Contently
supping my mug of drinking chocolate.
But
most of all I could hear her singing,
Precisely
like the angel she was.
Crooning our
favorite Irish lullaby
As
she so often did.
That
song haunts me to this very day
And
perpetually brings a tear to my eye,
A
tear of joy…
For
you see,
Although
she has been gone
For
almost fifteen years,
I
shall never for one single moment forget
My mother’s eternal
love…
P. S. Gifford
psgifford@earthlink.net
www.psgifford.com
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