A poem I wrote for my mother.

      My back is bent

      My legs are weak

      But in my mind

      I Fly.

     My sight is weak

     My hearing fades

     But in my mind

     I Fly.

     Someday, when my race is run

    God, will look and say’Well Done’

    And then with angel’s wings I’ll rise

     And into His arms I’ll Fly.

 

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