This
is the eleventh Mother’s Day that I will celebrate without mine. A year-and-a-half
before she died, I wrote a poem to her and all mothers. I suppose it works best
for mothers of young children, but it celebrates all of them. Here it is.
For Mother’s Day
More precious than
diamonds,
More fun than movie nights,
Sweeter than
chocolate,
Lovelier than roses.
Mothers.
Necklaces, rings,
and bracelets,
Tear-jerkers and popcorn,
Cadbury, Godiva,
and Fannie May,
Fragrant Damask and climbing Floribunda.
Mother’s Day
gifts.
Best of all are
happy children,
Sentimental verses sincerely meant,
Gifts made with
childish hands,
Burnt toast on breakfast trays.
Love.
Happy
Mother’s Day.
