Memories of Mum
Posted: Sat May 12, 2012 6:22 pm
The following poem was written by my Auntie Pat who left us late last year a wonderful lady.
Memories Of Mum
You left so many memories
Each one so fond and true;
I've just to close my eyes to see
The dear, sweet face of you.
I loved the soft and silvery hair,
The calm and gentle brow.
The eyes of brown that shone with love
Seem so close even now.
One special memory, darling mum,
As timeless as the sands
The greatest memory of my life
Those gentle work-worn hands.
They rocked me in my cradle days,
They held me to your breast.
They were always there so full of love
To help and do their best.
When all my world had gone astray
And no noe seemed to care,
In tears I turned around to find
Those gentle hands were there.
They soothed away my troubles,
They made things right somehow.
Thinking of you, darling mum
It seems I feel them now.
God saw that they were getting tired,
And only he knows best.
He sadi, "Thy life's work nobly done"
And laid those hands to rest.
Until we meet again. dear Mum.
In His great promised land.
Oh darling, how i long to clasp
A gentle work-worn hand.
Pat Little
Memories Of Mum
You left so many memories
Each one so fond and true;
I've just to close my eyes to see
The dear, sweet face of you.
I loved the soft and silvery hair,
The calm and gentle brow.
The eyes of brown that shone with love
Seem so close even now.
One special memory, darling mum,
As timeless as the sands
The greatest memory of my life
Those gentle work-worn hands.
They rocked me in my cradle days,
They held me to your breast.
They were always there so full of love
To help and do their best.
When all my world had gone astray
And no noe seemed to care,
In tears I turned around to find
Those gentle hands were there.
They soothed away my troubles,
They made things right somehow.
Thinking of you, darling mum
It seems I feel them now.
God saw that they were getting tired,
And only he knows best.
He sadi, "Thy life's work nobly done"
And laid those hands to rest.
Until we meet again. dear Mum.
In His great promised land.
Oh darling, how i long to clasp
A gentle work-worn hand.
Pat Little