My Mother

I remember the hands that tucked me in,

when the night was cold and windy.

With her soft voice she sang me a song,

while I fell asleep in her arms.

I remember the night was cold and windy,

when I heard my mother cried for the first time.

While I fell asleep in her arms,

of loneliness and in the darkness she cried.

I remember my mother cried every night,

her brown eyes filled with untouched tears

of loneliness and in the darkness she cried,

from so many tombs she had visited

of relatives that were so dear to her.

Copyright@2005 Michelle Carreiro