I think that I shall never see another
Poem as lovely as a mother.
A woman who goes hungry if pressed,
To ensure her child is fed and blessed;
A woman who looks to God each day,
And teaches, by example, how to pray;
A woman, in our Spring so fair,
Who showers us with love and care;
And in the Summer time of childhood,
Shines on us peace, radiates good;
As leaves fall down in the Autumn of life,
Still she strives to protect us from strife.
And as the Winter comes, cold and drear,
She holds us in her heart, warm and dear.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a Mummy.
Don Mathis with his mother Bernadine.
___
(With apologies to Alfred Joyce “Trees” Kilmer.)
Image courtesy of Andrea Piacquadio.
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