Mother and daughter clinging forever
Liken to the grape that grows on the vine.
Whenever I stood beside her
All confidence was mine.
I well recall the feeling
For dear mother was so kind...
Never ever shall I forget
The way she pleased my mind.
And quite often I heard her say
When we were together, life was fine.
Mother and daughter clinging forever
Liken to the grape that grows on the vine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a lovely memory you hold of your mother, nice poem Joyce.