Along the way
Someone wiped a tear
My dear sweet mother
It held a memory dear
A mother does full time work
The greatest job of all
Because she is paided with love
She does a million things
As she is growing old
She has cried a many a tear
Just to save me
Her 
is made of the purest gold
Light shines with love for her eyes
She is and always will be right
The passage of time she must carry
She has it set to bear a soul
From her own it is separate
She must teach to live and die alone
Whom she will cherish
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
