Another List Poem

Since this week's stretch was a list poem, and since I've been writing to do lists and thinking this way in recent days, here's another list poem. I think it's much better than my last.

She
She talks to herself while washing the dishes.
     And thinks we don't hear her.
She laughs at my jokes.
She talks loudly in church.
     Even when she means to whisper.
She likes to gossip.
     And gets all the good dirt.
She take time to write notes.
     And puts newspaper clippings inside.
She forgets what she's saying mid-sentence.
     And she laughs at herself.
She gives the greatest hugs.
She used to be tall.
     But now she's shrinking.
She came to see me defend my dissertation.
     And smiled through it all.
She bakes the best Christmas cookies.
     And sends them in a care package every year.
She tells the greatest stories.
She keeps a photo of her mother and me on her dresser.
She secretly sends money.
     And tells me to spend it on myself.
She is fond of odd phrases and sayings.
If she read this she'd say
     "Who is She? The cat's mother?"
She is my mom.

Lots of folks are playing this week. Do you want to join them? Post your creation(s) on your blog and then leave a link in the comments. A bit later this week, I'll link them all here.