Poezie My Mother, to Me

No, she wasn't lavish with words of high praise

Her views black and white with no room left for grays

Self-centered, too sensitive, moody times three

And my dearest friend, was

my Mother, to me.



She wasn't the life of the party, it's true

She'd sit on the sidelines and analyze you

A gifted perfectionist, definitely,

A mentor I prized, was

my Mother, to me.



Oh, she saw right through me, no sense to pretend

A quick judge of character ~ true, loyal friend

A rock I could lean on, an anchor was she

A treasure most dear, was

my Mother, to me.



Now there's something missing that I can't replace

It's more than her laughter, her voice or her face

For she gave my heart dreams

of what I could be,

This lady, I loved, was

my Mother, to me.