She isn't my mother,
But I cry when I see her.
She's shorter and smaller,
But they have the same laugh.
She always has time for us,
But I still don't see her much.
She loves me as much as she can,
But she's still not my mommy.
When I saw her on Saturday, in her quaint country kitchen,
I had to stop myself from crying.
I gave her a hug and nearly lost it.
She's my Godmother and mom's sister...
and I can see my mom in her.
Man, I miss my mom...
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