An Ode to My MOM

I see my mom doing little things that please her with an innocence I admire.
She stands in the path in the yard and lifts a lost bird's nest into the crook of the tree.
She takes a picture, almost the same as her love's, of a bright yellow daffodil and stake.
She washes vegetables and turns them into juice.
She loves people and wants to know how the clerk at the store is and how she's doing.
She wants to spend time with me in such a sweet way I feel loved and honored.

My mom stands by my side and in a way we walk through life together.
She's always with me in some way.
I see her in my mind's eye seeing me and hoping for the best.
I know her tears over my downfalls.
We used to ride horses together.
Once galloping down the beach in our home state.

My mom is my advocate.
My mom has done more research on my disease that anyone I know.
My mom wants solutions and answers to problems.
She's willing to try things.
She wants to make the world better.
She cries over injustice and cruelty.

My mom is my om, I mean my mom, and we're tied together.
My mom is herself always and I can rely on that.
My mom is beautiful and kind.
My mom is nurturing and caring.
My mom is divine treasure.
I want to be like my mom.


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