Tavi Nathanson Tuesday, January 26, 1999 
Mr. Geib English

My Mother


My mother-
With her gentle smile,
Remaining beautiful shape of a crescent.
Her eyes-
Are two fish,
Swimming in a placid sea.
Her hair- 
Is like wild grass,
Swaying from side to side.
Her voice- 
Is of and angel.
Her fingers-
Are the wings of a dove, 
flying back,
on its migration home.
Her face-
Is a painting.
Too beautiful-
to be believable.
Her tears-
Are never sorrowful,
Always full of joy,
Like rain,
Pouring down,
On a hot day.
Her footsteps-
Are silent, leaving no traces.
I enter her room- 
getting a warm hug.
I smile,
Knowing that I,
Have an extraordinary
Mother.