My mother, the queen of my heart,
Reigns in my sky like a moon,
Pulling the tides of my senses,
Lighting the paths of my dreams.
All melodies hence will play subtly
Against this first, dominant theme
That will turn their most delicate graces
Into harmonies they'll never hear.
Nor can I visit the garden
Where once I lay wrapped in her arms.
The doors of the past will not open
Though I live 'neath a dome of pure joy.
*********************
A Mother's love is something
that no on can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
and of sacrifice and pain,
It is endless and unselfish
and enduring come what may
For nothing can destroy it
or take that love away . . .
It is patient and forgiving
when all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
even though the heart is breaking . . .
It believes beyond believing
when the world around condemns,
And it glows with all the beauty
of the rarest, brightest gems . . .
It is far beyond defining,
it defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
like the mysteries of creation . . .
A many splendorous miracle
man cannot understand
And another wondrous evidence
of God's tender guiding hand.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
