M
Mom, spring whispers to me
That every tear you shed
There in heaven
Will soon become a love song
And each prayer of mine
You hear
Mom, pick a flower
From the garden of angels
Send it to me
While gentle sleep steals my soul
Among the living
You know mom,
No matter how many doors they''ll open
No one can enter
The upper heart
Where I keep my childhood
Copyright © Berinde Ovidiu-Claudiu | Year Posted 2013
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