Not like you

Not like you

I am a mother, though not like you.

You cradle your sweet baby in your armes,

Mine are empty, but I hold him in my heart.

You brush her soft curly hair,

and tie pretty pink bows just right.

A lock of his hair is tucked neatly in a book.

You pick daisies and tie them in a chain

to wear around her neck.

I cut lilacs and arrange them in a vase to set at his grave.

You look forward to dreams and plans.

I hold onto memories.

I am a mother,

though not like you.

By Sheri Hess