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Iron grey her hair
this woman who bore me
laboured for her family.
Cleaning for the rich
she bought us clothes and sweets;

dad's shift work strained her
debt and death lined her face.

I retain her uncertainties
closely. proudly.
her generosity never failed;
separated by death
we share the moon
on cloudless nights
above our northern city.







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Stephen Atkinson

Wed 19th Jun 2024 23:07

separated by death
we share the moon
on cloudless nights
above our northern city.
I love that, John. Wonderful writing, as aways

Holden Moncrieff

Wed 19th Jun 2024 08:37

A wonderful poem, John, a truly lovely tribute! 🌷

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keith jeffries

Tue 18th Jun 2024 22:26

Thank you for sharing this. There are few in life we can extol the virtues of, but a mother is often our first recourse. It is a relationship, a bond which reaches the depths of intimacy and love.
Thank you indeed,

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