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Mama's Hands

As I walked in,
my mother held my
hand.
As I look around,
I remembered the real
reason I was there.
I walked over to her
and looked upon her.
I knelt and prayed
in front of her,
while she was looking
over me
for an eternity.
I started crying,
and soon the room
filled up with hundreds
of people who came
to see her, who loved
her. Everyone came
up to me with their
tear-streaked faces
and said they were sorry.
They told me things
she would want me to do.
But they weren't her,
they didn't know what
she would have wanted.
I looked around and
thought it wasn't
true and I told
myself it was only
a dream. I still held
my mother's hand,
looked up into her eyes,
and hugged her.
As I hugged her, I
started crying, never
wanting to let her go.
Then, without her hand,
I walked over to her
again and looked down
upon her.
There she was still,
lying in that coffin,
death had stolen her life.
As I whisper good-bye,
I cry and remember her as
my mother. No longer
was there a hand to hold
when I was afraid.
There she was, say good-bye,
to my sweet and loving mother.
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