I Expect Her To Know

I don’t want to write about my mom, She suffered in pain before she died, But she always said she smiled when I did Until the pain came and took her away. She loved me, though never said such things I loved her sometimes, I expected her to know, On the evening, the night she died Someone advised I should place my hand on her head And tell, I love you mom, I was not sure if she will hear or know. Still I placed my hand and said, I love you mom, There was pain in her eyes, she said nothing. I traveled in the same hearse; Expecting no one to see, I place my hand one more time, And said, I love you mom - She showed no pain or regret, nor she gave away her smile, I even tried smiling that she may, I waited the long dismal journey. I don’t want to write about my mom, I expect her to know.