Her hands are made of unfathomed
tenderness.
The face of an angel who look
delighted and caress.
Her kisses are designed to make
pains disappear.
Comfort a worried heart is one of
her flair.
She is the executive chef in that
little kitchen.
Her words strike the most when
you carefully listen.
She will always be better than a
red carpet when I come home.
She waves even when I’m a hundred
meters away from the door.
I can still remember how she made
milk before bed.
And told the most wonderful
stories I’ve ever heard.
She amused me with her every
single lullaby.
That made me fall asleep in a
dream where I can fly.
Some time ago I ran as fast as a
truck.
Then I got a skinned knee when I
straight hit a rock.
Frightened to go home that she
will get mad.
Not knowing that if I do, I will
miss the best doctor that I have.
