R Rios Poet I do not know?

The Meeting

The look in your eyes,
Full of suffering and despair.
With your families around saying lies,
Me wondering life is so unfair.
The smell of the hospital,
Stench of pain.
Wondering when you'll get out,
What will we gain?
The days grew closer,
Where we knew,
Days were growing out to a few,
Until the day for where I met,
Death in my front door out in set.
Holding my breath,
Just to know,
You're my mother,
My love will always grow.

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