MOTHER

Her hands performed their myriad tasks,
And often were the tears
Quickly wiped away, unseen;
Lest we should see her fears.

I remember in my childhood days,
When I was but a boy,
How each triumph in my work or play
Also brought her joy.

I guess I’ll never know the cost
Of all the things she did
To make my life more pleasant;
Or the pain she often hid.

And things I learned there, at her knee,
No school could ever teach;
If I fulfilled just half her hopes,
Then what heights would I reach!

She holds a sacred office;
Her appointment is divine;
So honor then you mother, sir,
While I pause to honor mine.

fcc