Mother's sweater

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  • Childhood

    Mother's sweater

    I used to sit in her lap and sleep.
    The only time I was safe from my dreams.
    She'd chase away the demons and my fears.

    Holding me holding me so near

    I used to cuddle close when I was afraid.
    Fitful nightmares couldnt catch me
    She would save me from myself

    I remember her itchy wool sweater
    made from mosquitos I bet
    I'd rest my head and play with the buttons

    thats the one thing ill never for get.

    When she died I really missed it
    the painful itch of that wool
    The wooden buttons between my fingers
    the one thing that made my childhood good



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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    RavenMoon’s Poems (12)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Unconditional 0
    All The Wrong Places 2
    Lovers 4
    Taste 1
    Calling 0
    Terror 1
    Nightmare of sorts 0
    Love *אהבה* me in Hebrew 0
    Differences 0
    Mother's sweater 0
    just a minute in a lifetime 0
    Just like Riding a Bike 1