Sunday Morning

Early Sunday morning, around six we’d hear her call
My brothers, sister and I would pitter patter down the hall One by one to the bathrooms we would go, we’d wash ourselves
from head to toe.
After we were done, to breakfast we would show. After eating breakfast, back to our rooms to get dress
This was Sunday we had to wear our very best
She was presenting us to God, so she would except no less. Somewhere around eight thirty the car would start.
Then she would take a minute to look at us, with
love and pride in her heart After letting us off at church front door
She’d return home to ready herself for morning
service to praise the Lord After service was over, we would fellowship awhile
Then we’d return home, full of peacefulness and smiles Now when I sit back about these times
I thank and praise God for that mother of mine
No one but God himself, is more sweet, loving, and kind

by Virginia D. McNair

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Comments (1)

Virginia: Love your thoughts in this poem' You seem to have the talent for words, lets get with it start writing the whole world is waiting charles garcia