Within my wraps of slumber, as the northern cold robs warmth from the air, I almost remember my mother, as if she lay next to me there,
I want to reach out to her but with limbs just like lead, she turns away from me slowly, just a tiny reach from there.
I want to be again as that child from the past, even though hunger was what I knew, without a future so vast as those around me, It is the love,
I need to view
Clasp your children tightly, as if you might lose them tonight, For they will remember, it is just a tiny reach from there.