by Julie Fryar
My mother is kind, gentle, and loving,
My mother kissed my boo boo's, when I fell down,
My mother fed me, clothed me, and loved me,
As time passed by, my mom dried my tears, from my
first broken heart,and later stood up when the minister said,
I now pronounce them husband and wife.
My mother dried my tears, at the birth of my first child.
The years passed, and now my mother's hair is grey, and her legs wobble, but my mother, still says, I love you child. My Mother, ages gracefully, but her mind is becoming a haze. I fear the day, when my precious Mother looks in my face, and she says, who are you?