Mother.
The things I could tell you...
Oh the many stories.
I could tell you how I hated you.
How you hurt me at times.
The things you made me say.
The things you made me do.
Or I could tell you good things.
How I loved you.
How I missed you.
When I wanted to comfort you.
When I did comfort you.
The way you made me feel.
When I felt so bright.
And so full of might.
I could tell you when you helped.
When you screamed and yelled.
When we argued.
When we laughed.
When we cried.
When we hugged and kissed.
When we hit and pinched.
When we'd stare out the window.
In helplessness.
When we'd scream inside.
But that doesn't matter.
At least we don't need to talk of it.
Not right now.
Because we both know there'll be...
More.
More screams.
Fights.
Laughs.
Tears.
Joys.
Defeats.
Triumphs.
Hugs.
Kisses.
More things to remember.
Or I could just say...
I love you Mother.
Your son loves you.