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How do I thank my mother for giving me the life she desperately wanted to give herself.

Lang Leav

I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
LANG LEAV

Hands Poetry Reminder Yourself
You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.
LANG LEAV

Best Missing Writing Yourself
Some days it felt like a burden, to smile for you. To keep the lines of worry from etching into your forehead.
LANG LEAV

Burden Feeling Smile Worry Yourself
If they were meant to be in your life, nothing cover ever make them leave. If they weren’t, nothing in the world could make them stay.
LANG LEAV

Himself Leaving Life Myself Stay World
She can feel it down to her very core-this is her time. She will not only climb mountains-she will move them too.
LANG LEAV

Feeling Herself Inspirational Intense Mountain Movement
In time she will learn, not to miss them.
LANG LEAV

Herself Learning Missing Time
Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.
LANG LEAV

Be Yourself Herself Identity
The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.
LANG LEAV

Missing Moments Sadness Yourself
When love finds you, it doesn’t come as crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise-where the promise of summer shines out from within.
LANG LEAV

Calm Love Peace Slow Sunrise Warm Winter Yourself
We were born to walk this world in intersecting lines.
LANG LEAV

Born Love Togetherness
To love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.
LANG LEAV

Dare Despair Gate Hope Love
Summer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss goodnight.
LANG LEAV

Autumn Beginning Feeling Kissing Myself Summer
Strange how it mattered so much, when now it matters so little.
LANG LEAV

Important Strange Value
Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
LANG LEAV

Hands Lost Lover Myself Poetry
I thought you were a keeper, I wish I could have kept you.
LANG LEAV

Love Myself Relationship Thinking Yourself
And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.
LANG LEAV

Burst Cloud Moments Oneself Rain Storm

How do I thank my mother for giving me the life she desperately wanted to give herself.

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How do I thank my mother for giving me the life she desperately wanted to give herself.

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