One of a kind she is,
Full of grace she is,
Sometimes she is a literal sweetheart,
But sometimes her words hit like a dart.
Her gentle hands,
Almost as soft as the brownish sand.
In her eyes you see the brightest stars,
Of course she is the mother of ours.
Straight as a line,
She is a goddess of the divine.
All your worries- She'll wipe them off tear by tear,
She'll wave her wand and with a little fairy dust all your problems will disappear.
For it's the mothers love,
Like the peaceful dove.
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When Winter Falls | Poetry
Poetry'Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings' - William Wordsworth. This book contains my OWN poetry. Enjoy the journey through these melodic verses and make sure to vote. (slow updates)
