Memories Of Mum
Posted: Thu Feb 03, 2011 5:47 pm
I just recieved word that my auntie Pat passed away. She was a wonderful lady aged 85 and was the main driving force in my own passion for poetry. I hope you do not mind if I post one of her poems. This she wrote when she lost her mother in 1975.
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 one 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 said, " 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 one 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 said, " 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