Poetry

Mother, far too quickly the days are running past
and it’s as if it was only yesterday
that we did live in the old white house against the hillock
and in all of the bad times
I can only remember how you lead me nearer to God
but we cannot avoid the way that life goes
and yesterday is like water that we want to hold in our hands
and we see only flashes of the back of tomorrow
while we try to fit into the big old world
but as a mother there is nobody just like you.
 
Mother sometimes I struggle to find the right words
that tells about your sacrifices,
that tell how you are still selfless
and if I do not comprehend life fully
I can still in my fiftieth year go to you
and between us there is a tight bond
and how precious is every small thing
in the hands of your adult child.