Thursday, May 6, 2010


I know a woman who was once a small child; She was the light of her mother's life.
In hard times she moved to California; it was there, as a tot, she lost her daddy in strife.

Her momma, brothers, and sisters took care of her when ill;
They loved her, cared for her, and did their best to raise her well.

She grew-up with her confidant; since kindergarten she knew.
They loved and they lost, but they both made it through.

She loved a man that served his country; they moved away to a foreign land.
It was there that she raised their children and gave away the first ones hand.

 She was there to see her first grandchild be born and cried as she held him for the first time.

Again, years later, she was at a bedside when the first child being born was mine.

Her only son served his country and he served it through a war.
She was there to help when his family was tore.

She flew accross the country to gather his children from a stranger's home.
She left her job to raise them with a promise, they'd never be alone.

She bore only three children but she has brought-up many more.
It is certain there will be an answer when she knocks on heaven's door.

She has worked very hard but there's one thing she'll confess she ain't;
She does not like being called an angel or a saint.

What do you call the woman that has kept this family together?

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤  I'm proud to call her my Mother  ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

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