Autumn Face

She struggled to breathe,
Her pale face,
Cold and soft like winter,
Almost angelic,
Porcelain white framed by auburn locks,
Her eyes sunken in dark rings,
But still mesmerizing,
Olive green blended in misty grey,
Summer morning eyes,
And I took her hand in mine,
Pulse slowed in her fragile wrist,
A faint murmur echoed in her chest,
She licked her dry lips,
Cracked painfully,
Creased with bloody crevices,
I missed her loving gaze,
For now she never looked upon me,
Always down,
She was embarassed of her state,
"Mother, don't ever be ashamed.
You always were my hero."
A weak smile graced her shadowed features,
Our eyes met,
Hers so proud but afraid,
Mine blurred with tears,
How much I loved her,
That spring morning was when she left me,
But she had an autumn face.

Lovingly dedicated to my Mother.