Mary62708's "Mother" is about a strange kind of loss: the mother is still here, yet the speaker feels she is out of reach. The poem never explains why. It could be distance, estrangement, or something else, and the text leaves that open. What it makes clear is the ache.
Each of the first four stanzas takes one sense in turn: sight, touch, hearing, smell. The speaker lists small, ordinary things a mother gives, like a goodnight kiss, a spoken "I'm proud," the smell of cooking. The repeated "You are here yet I cannot…" makes the gap feel stubborn and heavy. The line about hearts beating in sync is especially tender.
The last stanza drops the "cannot" pattern and says plainly, "I mourn." The mood is quiet, longing, and sad, but also a little hopeful in its final line, "you are meant to be with me," which reads as a plea more than an accusation.