Mother

I wonder: Did I take for granted my mother’s endless love,
the burdens that she carried, the worry, trouble, tragedy,
within the “heart of family.”
The countless, endless giving … that she gave,
the sacrifices that she made, of hopes and dreams
that she let fade.
Why: So she could be the mother … that I need.

I wonder: Do I take as my “just reward,”
the arms so warm…that hug and hold.
The hands grown worn that cook, clean, toil.
The voice that changes…that praises…that scolds.
Her eyes…tired now, saw past: 
Dirt, grime and countless crimes,
to the “potential of the child inside.”

I wonder: Did I take as my right…without a thought,
the hopes and dreams that…she forgot.
Why: So she could be…the mother that I need.
With all my heart … I thank you true.
Dearest Mother … I love you.