July, 1976 |
You never
cease to be for me
The mother
of our daughters,
The mother
of our sons.
Indeed, it
seems to me
That in a
way that's strange
You are
more so mother now
Than when
they all were little ones.
Your cares
today, your fears, your tears
Are all the
ways your love still shows
Still now,
still more,
For those
whose scrapes you washed
Whose prams
you pushed
Whose noses
wiped
Whose
bruises kissed.
The years
have flown and beauty fades
But you
will always be the one
Who made me
glad you stole my heart
And in
exchange you gave me yours
For all the
days that are to come.