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Apron Strings
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By Louis Gander
Other Poems by Louis Gander

Apron Strings

When I was young,

I often clung,

to many little things.

I'd reach up high,

again retie,

my mama's apron strings.


I sometimes did,

what mom forbid,

although she'd make it clear.

Thoughts still linger.

I remember,

through each fleeting year.


Acquainted still,

her stories thrill,

with many left untold.

I can't go back,

though mem-ries track,

to years I'd rather hold.


I'm lost in thought,

it can't be caught,

despite my futile search -

mama singing,

mama bringing,

this small boy to church.


Though I was touched,

and changed so much,

through Christ, the perfect One -

I cannot stay,

time slips away,

from all that she had done.


I try to grasp,

and hands I clasp,

around those many things -

but mem-ry strands,

slip through my hands -

just like those apron strings.


I miss her so.

Emotions show.

There's moistness in my eyes.

I can't withhold,

though I am old,

my oft guilt-ridden cries.


Though sometimes sad,

I'm always glad,

whenever I think of -

my mama's cares,

my mama's prayers,

and her most precious love.

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Submitted: Sunday, August 17, 2014

Last Updated: Monday, August 18, 2014

About the Poet
Born in Richland Center, Wisconsin in 1954. It's the poem's message that matters- not the poet.

Other Poems by Louis Gander

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