Growing up he didn’t have his mother
She wasn’t there to check for monsters under his bed
She wasn’t there to wipe away the fear of a bad dream
She couldn’t, hold his heart with a lullaby
Or stamp his forehead with a kiss that read goodnight

But she was always there
Deep down he felt her in his soul
She was holding on to her baby boy
Whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
Telling him to do well in school.
Always be polite to women
And always hold the door. “John I love you!”
She said…

She was holding on to her baby boy
Like that lady with the torch in New York
Because she was his flame!
She was the fire burning inside his soul
That passion he has, he got it from her.
That smile he wears, he got it from her.
That laugh, he doesn’t know where
He got it from but he must assume it came from
Her because she is an angel
Inside and out, gone but never forgotten he carries her with him.

And he can see her
He can see her every time he looks into a mirror
By the features of his face and the pigments in his eyes
He can see her.
Looking back at him in his reflection.

And she is the most beautiful woman in the world
To him make up could never duplicate
Because make up in an insult
To one of God’s beautiful creations.

Now if heaven was a mile away,
He’d march through those gates,
Look God in the eyes and say,
“Where is my mother?
You’ve had her for way too long
Now it’s my turn”.

But it’s not!
So he sits in his home alone
Playing the waiting game till it’s his turn to take flight.
Maybe she’ll teach him how to fly.

You see, some of you don’t understand
She gave this boy life!
That blood running through his veins use to be her own
She was the gatekeeper to his world
And he never got the chance to say thank you

So dear mom,

“Thank you”….