The Void

Every night I would go to bed

And the last thing I would hear

Would be the sweet whisper of my mother’s voice

Filling my head.

Every night I would go to bed

And the last thing I would feel

Would be the sweet touch of my mother’s lips

Brushing against my forehead.

Every night I go to bed

Reaching and wanting the sound and feel of my mother

Searching and searching

For that sweet sound inside my head.

Every night I go to bed

Longing for the touch of my mothers lips

Which would put me to sleep

With their gentle graze across my forehead.