To have and to hold my mother once more,

to feel her warmth as I did before.

Her nurturing embrace and sheltering grasp—

time has stolen what my heart still clasps.

Her arms were a haven— her voice was my guide—

gone now, yet in my heart, she will always abide.

Throughout many days, months, and years,

the ache for her touch always stays near.

I was not young when she passed away and I am older still,

carrying her memory with me, though time it does not heal.