Mother,
During those early dearest days
I did not dream that you had
A large life which included me,
For I had a life which was only you.
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The way you posed your head
So that the light could caress your face
When you put your fingers on my hand
And your hand on my arm,
I was struck with a sense of health,
Of strength and very good fortune.
Copyright © 2006 by Maya Angelou. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.