The love from the heart of a mother,
is a difficult thing to replace.
As your senses seek to recover,
from the joy at the sight of her face.

You're not an "I love you" type person,
so craving it won't make it so.
It's taken so long to accept it,
I still love you and from that we grow.

It's hard for you to show emotion,
in your own way I know you still do.
You can't stop with teaching a lesson,
won't you look at the picture I drew?

The bitterness changes to knowing,
given age comes acceptance of things.
And even forgetful forgiveness,
makes the notes and the music it brings.

Away for so long I'd forgotten,
just how much I miss having you there.
To see you when I'm having breakfast,
means I'm home and I know that you care.

Arriving to see me tomorrow,
I'm excited as hell, say it true.
I miss your familiar voice, mother;
how I'm waiting to say "how are you?"