Every year, it happens again
Mother’s Day will come and go
You say we’re all the presents you need
Yet all our love for you doesn’t show.
I look around myself
For inspiration to express
The way you always raise me up
From out of my self-created mess.
I want to find a proper way
To tell you how I feel
Instead of this poem I write every year
Even though these words are real.
Life is a puzzling game
With its complex twists and turns
They are brightened by the torch you carry
Through the storms of my life it burns.
If you split open my head
And took apart all the knots
Amongst the pearly tears you’d find
You in all my thoughts.
It’s easy to forget the freedom
Bestowed on me by you
When all that seems to matter is me
And the mistakes I want to undo.
The things you say to me
Can hurt quite a bit
But that’s because they’re the words
I give the most credit.
I wish I had the talent to tell you
What you mean to me
But my words tumble to the ground
Like apples on a tree
I harvest these precious words
Hold them up against the light
Till I find the perfect ones
That express my feelings right.
It is with sincerity
I present these words to you
Hoping you understand what I mean
And the feelings that I imbued.
