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reidelias
reidelias Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Something about my mother

home.

She still sings when she cooks.

And when I am home I wake to her voice

And when I am home I wake to her voice and the smells that lure me out of my now bare room.

She is as bright as the morning sun

She is as bright as the morning sun that pours in like honey.

And I am taken back to when I was small.

The smell of my mother’s cooking being breathed in deeply.

I am happy to be here,

I am happy to be here. My first home.

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