Your mother is always with you… she’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street; she is the smell of beach in your fresh laundered socks; she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.
Your mother is always with you… she’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street; she is the smell of beach in your fresh laundered socks; she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.
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