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How often and surprising these days
to see my mother's face
reflecting back to me
from my own mirror.

Not that I mind,
for I've always seen her
as beautiful
in form and spirit.

Her beauty lies within
and shines through her eyes
whenever she speaks of
wanting the best for you.

It lies in her worn but gentle hands,
their strength now all but gone
yet still able to comfort as
she strokes your back with love.

It's there in the timber of her voice
mellow as warm syrup,
so kind and uplifting
in troublesome times.

Should I be compared to her
with all her heart, strength, wisdom
and compassion, I would surely
count myself a woman blessed.

K.Tate Jacoby
copyright 8/1/2003
(With love to my mother Alma Jean)

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