In the pockets of my life
I have always found your hand
with soft thin skin
and thick warm arms
you safeguarded my eyes
and filled my ears
with your heart’s deep drum.
Countless times the cupboards empty
you fed three minds
with your gift of love
not wrapped once like Christmas morning
or expecting anything in return
you replaced the material
with the ethereal
and gave me time to grow, to learn;
yet I squandered far too many years
on a long imperfect need
until I heard your truth echoed
somewhere across the sea.
© D. Archer March 2012
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Absolutely beautiful. Mothers are usually the unsung heroes. Giving though usually under appreciated and criticized, but where would we be without the love of our mothers? You crafted this so deeply. Thank you.
Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my post. I really appreciate your thoughts and your understanding of the subject matter. Thank you once again, Dave.
how resonant; my mum was of the same generation (1933-1999) and I notice her much more clearly than I ever did when we met
In a way I wanted to write something about my mum while she is still alive, it came to me in a moment of quiet contemplation. Thank you for stopping by. I visited your blog today and although I have only scratched the surface I feel I will be returning to hear your very articulate take on life. Dave