Saturday, May 12, 2012
It was the night before Mother's day.
And All through the home,
Children were stirring,
making cards out of foam.
Mother was sleeping, waiting to be fed.
while visions of burned toast
danced in her head.
The special day was coming
Where Mother would be
happy and humming, as glad as could be.
The sense of excitement
was too much to bear,
Mother rose from her sleep to listen and hear.
But the children had already fallen asleep
Leaving mother to wonder, what they made her to keep.
Then what to her wandering eyes did appear?
A Table with roses, and thorns on the side.
Left there by Father with a note far and wide.
Large hearts in crayons soon graced her vision.
With misspelled words made with a mission.
Mother sighed with delight
While sampling some chocolates
In the quaint little room with the bright, pretty light.
Her work for the year
was now being praised.
What fell from her eyes, was more than one little tear.
But soon all the children
grew up and away.
Leaving Mother alone
with her hair turning gray.
And now all we see
is her looking through glass
of a Motherhood praised
by childhoods past.
- by Mrs. White, May 2012
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