On that date in December
it’s cold and gray
but not like any other winter day.
That day she sits to stare
off into space—
her mind off in another place.
All that one would ever see
is a motherless girl
experiencing a harsh, lonely world.
Her hair dark—her complexion
pale as beats of a lifeless air,
pale as mourning’s constant ail.
Memories form about the day
my mother left this existence.
How can I cope with this distance?
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