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Another Home
August 15, 2011
What seemed like a long time ago,
is happening before my eyes,
on the floor not breathing,
she can't be alive.
She was a mom to me and would tuck me in at night, then she'd ask, "what is the road less traveled by, if everyone always takes the same,"
I'd say my own.
In one point of her life,
It was time to say goodbye,
I was too young to understand,
so she left and died.
For the longest I blamed myself for her passing,
but little did I know,
I grew to understand she was in another place called home.
© Anonymous
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