The Mother

A dark sonnet about a mother.

Her eyes lie closed to the life around her.
Her corpse remains horribly cold and still.
What I would give to see her shake and shiver
or speak as she once did, her voice so shrill.
I still see her lying there, worn and tired,
brave in the face of dangers unknown,
Looking like she had already expired.
Her courage was a bright beacon that shone.
Of course, I remember her pain
in her final moments of life on earth,
but oh, how I wish she could have remained
instead of passing away in child birth.
Although she is gone her legacy will stay
as her son is alive to see this day.