Poem by Othel Cowan
By her grave as I wipe away my tears,
my mind travels back through the years.
Back to days when I was a tiny child.
and my Mother's hands seem oh so mild.
Back to when she would hold me in her lap,
and softly sing while I took a long nap.
Back to the days when I knew no harm,
when she'd hold me in her loving arms.
When the day end, "Goodnight," she softly said,
laying me down to sleep on my little bed.
When all was safe, she'll lay down to rest,
and fold her arms across her loving breast.
My Mother worked hard throughout her years,
and time never passed without her falling tears.
Now she's resting in the Lord love from on high,
where her Spirit forever live and never die.
My Mother strength will always be endearing,
as the years slowly pass, I'll keep hearing.
The soft voice of my Mother calling me home,
while through my life I'll continue to roam.
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