Tuesday, March 1, 2011

my mother

my mother is the sweetest and most delicate of all.

She knows more of paradise

Than angels can recall.

She's not only beautiful

But passionately young,

Playful as a kid, yet wise

As one who has lived long.

Her love is like the rush of life,

A bubbling, laughing spring

That runs through all like liquid light

And makes the mountains sing

i'm proud of you, mom