To My Mother On Her Birthday Poem by Gert Strydom

Mother, I am tired to come with empty hands to you
and it worries me that life passes so quickly
but to me you are always available
and sometimes my life is in disorder.
and I keep knocking at your door
and it is with an open heart that you are giving every thing
as never your love does end
when like a mere child you wipe off my tears.
I do not know how to say thank you for a life-time
and its only empty words that I am laying at you feet
but like you I do not know any other woman
and maybe I will always cling
to love that is honourable and sincere
and keeps guiding me to God in a world of darkness.