Do you mind if I share some poetry with you?

Lord, when I die, wake me up in my mother’s house.

Wake me up to hot soup on the stove and a coffee, 

Coffee without the addict part.

Wake me up to large trees along the veranda 

And to the morning rays,

Streaming in through cracks in the window shade.

Wake me up to the pitter-patter of tiny feet, 

The faint rustle and scritch scratch of small birds on the balcony.

When I die, take me home 🏠 to my mother’s,

Please.

With Love,

TheWomynWhoWrites