My Mother
My mother didn’t cook too well
And neither did she bake.
If you’d assume she loved to clean,
That would be a mistake.
She didn’t drive, she didn’t work
But she was always there.
If comfort was required, well,
She had the time to spare.
If something needed fixing,
She’s the one who’d man the tools
And raising us, it’s she who made us
Follow all the rules.
She was athletic, playing tennis
When she had the chance
And at a party, she would be
The first to start to dance.
She loved her games and puzzles,
Playing mah jongg every week
And did crosswords in the paper,
With an always-finish streak.
My mom’s been gone for years, yet on
Her birthday I recall
That, despite her flaws, without her
I would not be here at all.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2024
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