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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I KNOW SHE WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS LOVE SONG As she slowly slips away I say Now every love song I ever hear seems written especially for her and i Not a lover bared, bedded or wedded Nor those who shed their clothing as a sign of love and devotion Hers was understood Her brand of love is called “motherhood” Not a love like I had for that young sixteen year old blonde I unburied in Brooklyn The one whose shimmer reflected off the shiny steel beams of the Verrazano Bridge Bathing Staten Island in a satiny soft sunshine And sprinkling the news that the prettiest part of Brooklyn was now all mine No not that kind of love Nor the blonde thirty years later who stole the heart Brooklyn so long ago had broken Whose words were spoken nakedly from behind a silken veil And made what might have been the final time feel like the first time I ever fell in love No not that kind of love Not the kind that came with every congratulatory conquest and every lamentable loss For she was always there Through the storm clouds and through the thunder Through the heartache that results from a young man’s lust and mistrust which sets him asunder Yet there was always a patiently waiting cradle Wherein I would voice a sincere supplication for support A structure strong enough to buttress another beauty’s betrayal and stiffen my spine when loss left me stooped over and lame That kind of love goes by only one singular name Beyond sacred, beyond spectacular, beyond the most sacrosanct kind of good Such a sanctified love is named “motherhood” And mine was always right there where a mother belongs So that explains why now I hear her name in the center of all softly sung love songs © 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE.....~free cee!~ P.S. Go ahead Mom, my angel, my sweet, fear not to fly AND FLEW DID SHE WITH GRACE I'M SURE
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