With scraped knees and dirty hands,
With tear washed faces and cheeky grins.
Only a mother could love such a scene.
Her house cleaning has left her with a feeling of satisfaction- and a few weary limbs.
Her long hours in the kitchen are wearing off as the dinner cooks comfortably.
But as she rests her weary bones finally into a chair there is a faint voice on the air,
And in tromps a young girl of nine, on her face a look a triumph,
On her feet the evidence of her escapade, and in her hands the treasure.
But mother never scolds, she leans forward and embraces her little charge, her eyes open and aglow as her daughter unearths the hidden treasure.
Only mother’s have the stamina to carry a house, their love doesn’t stop with time,
At the end of a day it is the mother who still holds her children close after a day of hard work and exhaustion.
A mother’s love doesn’t evaporate with her child’s scrapes and disobedience,
Her love endures all time.
My Mom certainly had her hands full raising my sister and I.:)
How I loved tramping through the woods and collecting souvenirs to bring home, and dragging my sister behind for the wild ride.:) However my Mom was fortunate enough to raise two young girls who had no stomach for things that crawled or slithered or hopped:) Our treasures were more simple, just pieces of creation that we came upon.
However Mom always dropped whatever she was doing to spend time with her girls, the so called 'treasures' could be a simple rock from the bed of the creek or the long icicles that melted from the roof of our barn and became our swords in battles untold:). But she oohed and awed over all our treasures like they were rubies in disguise.
Mom's were made to share in our adventures! And then bandage us up if any mishap occurred:) My mom has always been there, she always reaches out for me, and even as the years pass she still examines my treasures (though they are a different kind now:) and although she no longer does the bandaging up- she certainly comforts the injured with a great deal of attention:):)
How I loved tramping through the woods and collecting souvenirs to bring home, and dragging my sister behind for the wild ride.:) However my Mom was fortunate enough to raise two young girls who had no stomach for things that crawled or slithered or hopped:) Our treasures were more simple, just pieces of creation that we came upon.
However Mom always dropped whatever she was doing to spend time with her girls, the so called 'treasures' could be a simple rock from the bed of the creek or the long icicles that melted from the roof of our barn and became our swords in battles untold:). But she oohed and awed over all our treasures like they were rubies in disguise.
Mom's were made to share in our adventures! And then bandage us up if any mishap occurred:) My mom has always been there, she always reaches out for me, and even as the years pass she still examines my treasures (though they are a different kind now:) and although she no longer does the bandaging up- she certainly comforts the injured with a great deal of attention:):)
Did you write that? It's really good!
ReplyDeleteHi Rebecca!
ReplyDeleteYes I did, I was searching our library and the internet for poems- but nothing was exactly what I was looking for- so I had to improvise:)
Thanks!
God Bless!
Cassie