Mother

She couldn't understand, the lonely hours, the pain within.
She looked to find the answers, only silence then.
Endless hours stretched on, as she waited day by day.
With tears and lonely heart, she looked to God to pray.
Oh Mother dear sweet Mother, her eye sight grown so dim.
But she still hears the birds sing, it warms her heart within.
Her hands now are idle, her work on earth most done.
She sets quietly waiting, for the setting of the sun.
As she looked to heaven, she knew the Lord did hear.
A weary sweet old Mother, she helt her children dear.
It seemed she heard the laughter, of them from other days.
The echo from the past years, of her children at their play.
Now her brow was wrinkled, the years had took their toll.
Her shoulders now so bent, her steps had gotten slow.
She waited for the phone to ring, a knock upon the door.
But only silence greeted her, as it had the day before.
Her hands had been so busy, through the many years.
To teach and care and love, to wipe away the tears.
Now her hands were idle, her work on earth most done.
She sets quietly, waiting, for the setting of the sun.

by Claudine Cerra Blevins

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