Is that my mother’s touch?
So why is it so cold?
Is that my mother’s voice?
Who tells me that I’m spoiled?
Is that my mother’s mouth?
That tells my secrets to everyone?
Is that my mother’s heart?
Who stays with a man who wants to devour me?
Is that my mother?
No.
I am my own mother, now.
My touch is soft, giving, tender-
Never telling my secrets out.
My voice brushes by soft
Like a whisper: Live!
Charlotte Ballard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/is-that-my-mother-s-touch/
