Frank J. Montoya
YOUR MOTHER, AND MINE
What can compare to a mother’s joy,
When she first beholds her newborn child?
As she looks into those soulful eyes,
Those waiting months were all worthwhile.
What can equate to a mother’s delight
As those first unsteady steps are seen?
And what were those first few garbled words?
What did the baby say? What did the baby mean?
And what can match a mother’s pride
As she sees her child so quickly grow?
But how can she face that fearful day…
When her “baby” off to school must go?
There is nothing quite like a mother’s touch,
When her child is not feeling well.
That soft, cool hand on a fevered brow
Does more good than words can ever tell.
What words can express a mother’s wish
As her children take life’s precarious trail:
That they will have love and health and happiness,
And that their hopes and dreams will have full sail.
But no words can describe the loss of a child.
The grief and heartache only a mother can feel.
There is no future, only tears and pain,
But maybe time and faith will let the spirit heal.
Are you a lucky one? Did Mama care for you,
Through the good times and the bad?
There are many sons and daughters grown,
Who never knew their Mom… and that is sad.
So… must you really wait for Mother’s Day
To say those words kept so long inside?
Say them quickly, now… for it’s soon too late.
Nothing waits for man, neither time nor tide.
©Copyright April 25, 2002 by Frank J. Montoya