My Mother
They were my mothers’,
those pale blue eyes,
that silver thinning hair
tangled in her comb,
that soft heart filled to burst with love.
They were my mothers’,
these unpretentious clothes,
this costume jewellery, these artificial pearls,
ersatz emeralds,
these diamonds in her crown . . . cheap glass.
But her heart, her sweet translucent heart,
O, her heart was made of light
wrapped in the golden arms of God.
Copyright © Thomas Mcferran | Year Posted 2013
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