Indian Pride

Some people say that indians have to much pride, but I would set all my pride aside to catch A dream for you.

poem by Shonda Barnes
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October Rose

Mother you were born the twenty-fourth of October.The month when things fall, and get blown alway.We will never be separated no wind could ever blow our love alway.Your birthstone is pink, and that defines your sweet tenderness.Mother your favorite color of rose is yellow which stands for sympathy.You raised me with care, and confidence.You always gave me A shoulder to lean on when no one else was there.I was the tree, and you picked up my leaves.You dried up the sap, and patched it with A comforting soothe.I feel as I could never lose.For I have you my October rose to hold close.

dedicated to my mother..Theresa Anne Howard

poem by Shonda Barnes
Added by Poetry Lover
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