A place to add your poems forum: My Mom
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| With hair like clouds so soft, and white, and eyes of cornflower blue, She sat the crying silently I knew not what to do, Her face was aged, and wrinkled, tender love shows there, Pain was in those eyes of blue, that pain I also share. For many children she had born, fifteen all told you see, She loved each,and every One of them, Individually, But I was going far away to a foreign land, The man I loved was standing there, he'd just asked for my hand. She hugged me to her breast and said, Be sure in what you say, America is so very, very, far away.
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