For Mom

Mothers have tough choices,
to make along the way
My Mother had many,
Still does to this day.

I know she worries about her decisions,
And how we precieved her reasoning.
I know she worries about how she raised us,
And how her choices may have affected us.

All children grow up one day,
Right under your nose.
We make our own choices,
Decide our own fate,
With some help along the way.

We know you are not perfect,
Although we like to think you are :)

It was your morals and values that shaped us,
Into the people we are today.
And those same morals and values,
That brought out our rebelious ways.
Without these things, however,
We would not be who we are today.

Take the bad with the good,
And know in your heart,
You did all that you could.

This pedastool we put you on,
Is in our own little way,
A way to say thank you,
And how much we love you.

An example of how we would like to be someday.

It has been so long since I last wrote to you,
Words do not flow the way they used to.

Starting over in my poetic release,
Proved difficult when the aching of my heart ceased.

This used to only be,
a form of therapy for me.

Yet like the lost love,
I return to you again,
In attempt to retrain,
This scattered mess I call a brain.