Your mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of certain foods, flowers you pick, the fragrance of life itself. She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well. She's the breath in the air on a cold winter's day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colours of the rainbow; she is Christmas morning. She's the place you came from, your first home and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you, not time, not space, not even death.
Trina
28th November 2020