Shiela Sane Poems

She is no saint by far, still she is a blessing to my heart. I've watched her on her bended knees as she's asked for strength from above, to show her children understanding of a feed up mother's love. Through out the hardship or the troubles that we would put her old heart through, she never lost an ounce of faith that we her children were somehow part of God's splinded plan too. I've watched her triumph over the wounds that this old hard world has laid down at her feet and still keep trucking on.
A truckers life is what she has chosen to do. When that diesel stack blows black as coal and the engine makes its eerie sound and out of sight her family stands there left behind. She only knows that she has taught us well
as we walk without her here at home. She travels the toughest roads alone with her burdens not so light. Still she conquers the highways and By- Ways that lead her out of sight. Weerie from her long life's journey that at times has brought her straight to tears. She bows down again on bended knees by a makeshift bed and ask for forgiveness from the Lord above just for me and the family.
Then at last she stands up strong and true as a mother's love can be. Not for herself has she prayed this day, but instead she asked these things in Jesus name and for him to take care of her family. And then I shut my eyes and I can see when she's smiling back at me.
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She is no saint by far, still she is a blessing to my heart. I've watched her on her bended knees as she's asked for strength from above, to show her children understanding of a feed up mother's love. Through out the hardship or the troubles that we would put her old heart through, she never lost an ounce of faith that we her children would be part of God's splinded plan too. I've watched her triumph over the wounds that this old hard world has laid down at her feet and still keep truckin on. A truckers life is left behind when that old diesel engine starts to whine. Then out of sight she'll travel the roughest roads alone. She only hopes that she has taught us well as we walk without her here at home. Still she drives on through the night her burdens not so light, that at times have brought her straight to tears. Then she bows down once again at a makeshift bed on bended knees to ask forgiveness just for me. The. At last she stands up so strong and true as a mother's love can be, not for herself has she prayed this day, but instead she asked these things in Jesus name and for him to take care of me. And in the end I can see her rise in the vision of my mind's eye.
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