Mother

my friend's mother in silent she walk her way through life, making sure everything is still all right, she's been cooking, cleaning for all of them, queenly as she only knew. Now, an old little lady, as she is, some things she can't do, fixing things that with time goes wrong, or mow the grass, paint the fence, So many things are out of her control, but one, she still keep the tittle to, calling my friend as he was a kid, sweaty, honey,dear, not realizing he is grown man. Time does pass for all of us, but for loving mother time is standing still, cause, love for her son is always the same, as for those little hands still want to fix dinner,iron the shirt. So why those little words let to be on the way? My drear friend let your mom call you honey and sweaty and dear, one day she will stop. She will be gone, and No other woman will ever, call you so sweet and soft, like your mother does.