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The scent of love
is in it
from the storms of life...

But can you do anything else?
to cover beauty
of the flower who is motherly love?

In the soul...
An oasis of silence
where eternal peace reigns
This is where the memories come in
of the character painted
with the hand of love.

You are infinity...
In the world of imagination...

Like a butterfly
which every year on the same day
stands on my hand.
The day your mom left
to the heights
leaving the scent of a rose
not to remind you of your presence.

You did not say goodbye
just took it
the most beautiful dress of wishes
and went...

Your character remained
in the reflection of my childhood...

I carry you mother,
I take you everywhere with me...
Like a bright shadow
in the iris in my eye...

Death can not
to win love
of one child
which he desires the touch of the mother's hand. © Gordana Andonovska
(Most Distinguished Female Poet)

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