Happy Mother's Day

Over the years I have tried to find special ways to honor my mother and grandmothers, and often that meant putting together scrap books with letters from us kids and poems.  Now that my grandmothers and mom have passed on those books have found their way back to me again.  I love to read the letters and the poems, they bring sweet memories and happy feelings, so instead of writing an actual story today I thought I would share some of my favorite Mother's Day Poetry with you.  I hope this brings to you the same happy, peaceful feelings it bring to me.

I Love You

by Roy Crofts

I love you,

Not only for what you are,

But for what I am

When I am with you.

I love you,

Not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what you

Are making of me.

I love you,

for the part of me

That you bring out.

I love you

For putting your hand

Into my heaped up heart

And passing over

All the foolish, weak things

That you can't help

Dimly seeing there

And for drawing out

Into the light

All the beautiful belongings

That no one else had looked

Quite far enough to find.

I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern

But a temple

Out of the works

Of my every day.

Not a reproach

But a song.

Mother to Child

by Carol Lynn Pearson

Look -

Your little fist

Fits mine

Like the pit

In a plum.

I think,

In the time

Before remembering,

These two hands

Clasped companionably,

Then parted.

Help me, child.

Forgive me

When I fail you.

I'm your mother,

True,

But in the end

Merely an older equal

Doing her faltering best

For a dear

Small friend.

Remembered Joys

Remembered Joys are never past,

They're simply tucked away

Deep in the corner of our hearts

That we call yesterday.

And sometimes on a sunny day,

Beside some quiet stream,

With breezes blowing through the trees

It's nice to sit and dream.

To watch the sunlight through the leaves,

And in its golden glow,

To see the pattern that it weaves

Upon the stream below.

The water, like a mirror, shines

With sweet reflections of

Those dear, remembered yesterdays

So filled with joy and love.

God Made a Wonderful Mother

by Pat O'Reilly

God made a wonderful mother,

A mother who never grows old;

He made her smile of the sunshine,

And He molded her heart of pure gold.

In her eyes He placed bright, shining stars,

In her cheeks, fair roses you see;

God made a wonderful mother,

And He gave that dear mother to me.

My Dear Mother

To one who bears the sweetest name,

And adds a luster to the same,

Who shares my joys--

Who cheers when sad--

The greatest friend I ever had.

Long life to her-

For there's no other

Could take the place

Of my dear mother.

Samuel Woodworth, on reflecting on his mother

How dear to this heart

Are the scenes of my childhood

When fond recollection

Presents them to view.

All To Myself

All to myself I think of you--

Think of the things we used to do.

Think of the things we used to say,

Think of each happy yesterday;

sometimes I sigh and sometimes I smile,

but I keep each olden, golden while

All to myself.

I wish I had the power to write

The thoughts within my heart tonight

As I sit and watch the lonely stars

And wonder how and where you are.

You know, Mom, it's a funny thing,

How close, a son, a mission can bring;

And how for months, now, I've tried

To keep my emotions deep inside.

I told you brave men never cry--

I'm sorry, Mom, I guess I lied.

For if we stood here to embrace,

You'd find a tear stain on my face.

I'm sorry if when I was home,

I left you standing all alone.

For it was you who shared my fears,

And soothed my hurt and dried my tears.

yes, if I had the power to write,

The things within my heart tonight,

The words would ring out loud and true,

I'm proud to say, "Mom, I love you."

She cooked the breakfast first of all

Washed the cups and plates,

Dressed the children and made sure

Stockings all were mates.

Combed their heads and made the beds

Sent them out to play

Gathered all their many toys,

Put some books away.

Dusted chairs and mopped the stairs,

Ironed an hour or two.

Baked some cookies and made some pies

Then she made a stew.

The telephone rang constantly

The doorbell did the same.

A youngster fell and stubbed his toe,

And then the laundry came.

She picked up blocks and mended socks

And blackened up the stove.

she thought Gypsy folks were fortunate

With carefree ways to rove.

And when her husband came home at six

He said, "I envy you.

It must be nice to sit at home

Without a thing to do."

Golden years are passing by

Happy, happy golden years.

Passing on the winds of time

These happy golden years.

call them back as they fly by

Sweet their memories are.

Oh improve them as they fly

These happy golden years.

Sometime

by Eugene Field

Last night, my darling, as you slept

I thought I heard you sigh.

And to your little crib I crept

And watched a space thereby.

And then I stopped and kissed your brow

For oh, I love you so---

You are too young to know it now

But sometimes you shall know.

Look backward, then into the years,

And see me here tonight.

See, O my darling! how my tears

Are falling as I write.

And feel once more upon your brow

The kiss of long ago--

You are to young to know it now

But sometime you shall know.

I love you because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good, and more than any fate could have done to make me happy.  You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a song.  You have done it just by being yourself.  Perhaps that is what being a friend means after all.

I love you........