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| Peggy Joan Nutsch |
My Mother
When one thinks of Mother and what the word means they
seldom realize all the love that it brings.
In a child's eyes, only mother could mend
all the broken toys, shattered dreams
and wounded hearts as a friend.
With kindness and love, and arms soft and warm
she'd wrap up my troubles and keep me from harm.
Now I am a mother, and I understand,
all the weight that she carried with nothing to gain.
She took all our problems upon her
to help ease our pain,
the cooking, the cleaning,
the laundry in vain.
The frustration she dealt with when kids did raise cain.
She smiled and she sighed and she screamed now and then.
Yet in spite of it all she barely complained.
This child never sees the humanness of her mother,
no weakness nor fault when she's about to her knees,
but only the love of a hero,
she gave with her heart,
that's all I remember right from the start!
I love ya momma! Happy Mother's Day!
by Susan Black 1991
