It’s not the word “Mother”
that means anything to me,
it’s the emotion and love inside the word,
hidden, for all to see, it’s the
Mold I measure myself by, the
Optimism I learned, the
Tower of strength I lean on, the
Hearth and home that nurtured, the
Encouragement to fly, and the
Rock that has held our family together through the years.
It’s the woman I call Mother
and her gentle, loving eyes,
that “squinty” look, the love and pride
that sees right through the lies.
Her poise, her laughter,
her intimidation, and her grace,
her smile of encouragement and
the patience on her face.
She’s all the thing I hope to be,
a vibrant, bright bouquet,
as breath taking and beautiful,
as the first daffodil in May.
© 5/10/14 TDR
Copyright © Trudy Diane Rider | Year Posted 2016