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by Catherine Hill
(St Johns, Worcester, England, UK)
She is beautiful
She is beautiful,
My gentle, caring girl,
She comes out of her home,
And comes to sit next to me in my car,
Hat on, gloves on,
And coat to keep her aching body warm,
And I know that to make that small walk,
To have washed and dressed has cost her dear,
To have risen from her bed,
Taken time to get down the stairs.
Feeling like no one knows,
But still, she sits alone on her settee,
Biding the time,
Getting the energy reserves which are so low,
Who knows how she feels
As she tries to concentrate on moving forward,
It will never get her to move backwards again.
She reaches for her makeup bag,
And slowly, carefully applies her lotions,
Creams and colours,
She doesn't need one bit of enhancement
On her beautiful face,
But it is part of her day
And she will not give up
One minute of her daily ritual
She checks her mental list,
Anything else she needs for our journey,
She rests, gains more of her energy,
Only she knows how she feels in this minute,
This hour, this day,
She hears me pull up in my car,
And she comes out to me,
To sit by me in my car,
Wrapped up warm,
And I look at this beautiful girl
And I am so glad that she is my daughter,
Mother of my beautiful grandaughter,
And wife of my wonderful son -in-law.
We have seen her suffer so much,
We have sat at her side for weeks
While she was on a life support machine,
We have seen her bed bound,
House bound and unable to do anything for herself,
But we have seen this beautiful girl
Fight back, walk again, drive again, work again, And be a mother, wife, daughter, sister,
The wonderful caring person
That she always has been.
She is beautiful,
She is my gentle, caring daughter,
And she has taught us all
The true meaning of hope.
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