There were no gentler pair of hands
Nor was there a sweeter kiss.
And when I remember you, Mother,
I remember all of this....
Your quiet prayers at bedtime,
When you came to tuck me in,
Your smiling face at sunrise
As the harried days begin.
Your hands, while always busy,
Could somehow find the time
To stop what you were doing,
To wipe a tear of mine.
Or take a simple moment
You'd listen with great care,
To my prose, my rhymes, my stories,
My dreams, and my nightmares.
I don't know how you did it,
But you could make a little girl,
Believe dreams really could come true,
And there was wonder in the world.
Though I've long been a woman,
There has never been another
Who makes me feel so special,
"Yes... I remember, Mother."
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