I Think Of Mother
I think of mother when I see
Tall chestnut candles on a tree,
My mother always kept a light,
For us when we were out at night.
I think of her when roses shed,
Their petals on the flower bed,
Like silk dresses spread to dry,
Beneath a breathless summer sky.
The smell of new bread makes me see
The old farmhouse that used to be,
A place for laughter, joy and tears,
Journey together down the years.
White Christmas days, star studded nights,
The heavens filled with northern lights,
Warm evenings in the summertime,
An old brass cowbells homely chime.
I think of her and all she meant,
The grace and kindliness she lent
To every common household chore;
Her welcome ever at the door,
I am so rich in memories
Of ordinary things like these.
A loaf of bread… a porch light on,
An old dog sleeping on the lawn.
No comments:
Post a Comment