Remnants of Her Spirit After

She who bore thee in her womb for those nine precious months, to feel thee grow from a tiny peapod to a kicking, screaming angel, would forget not the pain she went through in bringing thou unto this world. And that, so she might yet feel more pain when thou stabs her in the heart as thou leaveth her behind and run after thine material desires and yet, there remains a ghost of a smile that thou can see whenever thou cares to turn around, encouraging thou to go on so thou might be happy, and she too when thou art. How she conceals her worry as she watches each day unfold, and thou leaveth her farther behind and turn back ever so less often, to see the smile that first inspired thee.
Nay!
Now the smile no longer inspires thee as much as the achievements of thy worldly desires. It does break her heart so to see thou leave her, to chase after other pretty things thy own age. Yet, she does not stop thee, or call thee back, so thou might realize happiness, and contents herself with watching out for thee, lest thou hurts thyself.
Nay!
Thou wilt realise the day her spirit leaveth her shell, the sacrifices made unto thee to make thee the man thou art today. And yonder hills thou wilt wander, searching for remnants of her spirit after.