She stood on the stage,
her hair in a halo of braids,
beeming from the back row,
look at me in mine,
crying tears of sweet joy,
as the empty seat next to me was a symbolic void,
a place for him,
the ghost of Roy,

He would be proud,
today as I am,
a crying mother as time picks up the pace,
from a tiny baby,
to a full grown face,
that is practically my clone,

I know that I am never alone,
when I watch her shine,
my wee Bonnie,
a star,

So proud I am of her,
watching her,
with all her primary school class,
as they take their last,
bow on stage,
to move on in a few months,
and a few days,
to High School,

A penultimate phase,

I am absolutely amazed,
and proud,
watching her on the stage,
while sticking my tounge out at her,
encouraging her to smile,
in the biggest of ways,

my oldest,
my cherished,
my wee face,

I cry with pride for you,

mummy is proud of you,


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