She was my Mother
She Was My Mother
She taught me how to read and write
That good old cursive style.
I loved it, so I’d chew my tongue
And bend over the paper all the while.
She tried to teach me many things
Like making biscuits light,
But cooking was not my forte.
‘Though I tried, I just could not get it right.
She sewed on a pedal Singer
And made many quilt tops,
Made beautiful quilts for bedspreads,
While Dad and my brothers planted the crops.
She cooked on a wood stove for years,
The same in all seasons,
For five boys, husband and a girl,
And helped us all with our homework lessons.
She was always fair and loving,
Should arguments arise.
She gave punishment when needed.
She’s gone and I know she was just and wise.
She knew her Savior and Lord well,
And wanted to follow
Precepts that are taught in His Word.
Her heart’s dedication was not hollow.
Like her Mother, she personified love.
