They're the hands that caress so gentle at night/
They're those that rock its cradle still/
They're the blurry eyes that bring maturity to their infant worlds/
Your Love and Hate/
Your Sorrow and Despair/
Even your Pain is felt within your Pride and Joy/
And not just "ANY" winking eye can bring laughter to their lips/
And only a child would know when its mother is near/

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This Poems Story

My baby sister passed away when I was 4 years old. She was 6 weeks. She was my inspiration for this poem.