Mother's Day 1998
09/09/2013 Mother’s Day
It is spring here in Maine, May 6th to be precise.
The peepers are shrieking getting their exercise.
A few days before Mother’s Day and I’m late again.
I gather some paper, my thoughts, and look for a pen.
There are no words that can aptly show you my love;
But pray picture the alabaster image of a flying dove.
No praise I’ve ever heard meant more than yours;
That’s why, as a boy, I eagerly sped through my chores.
My memories of youth I’ll carry with me forever,
Sweet and dear memories to be lost--never, never.
A mother’s concern protects the child within. As she nurtures, he learns, and tries not to sin.
Out of her shadow he will grow to be a man.
But to his mother he’ll be her number one fan.
For some this may be just a day another day in May.
For me, a chance to say thanks and love on this Mother’s Day.