Inside each
of us is a beating heart.
It keeps us
alive when we wish to survive.
My heart
beats because hers beat first,
Pounding
with love for a child within.
It keeps us
alive when we wish to survive.
As mine is
made of silver, hers is gold,
Pounding
with love for a child within.
A child who
will always be there, sealed in her heart.
As mine is
made of silver, hers is gold;
Luster that
never dulls, but only brightens with each new memory of
A child who
will always be there, sealed in her heart.
It’s
pitter-patter quickens with sounds of laughter and singing.
Luster that
never dulls, but only brightens with each new memory of
Tiny shoes,
toothless grins, peanut butter and jelly and a full pew on Sunday mornings.
It’s
pitter-patter quickens with sounds of laughter and singing.
To know my mother’s
heart is to know love and sweet Amazing Grace.
Tiny shoes,
toothless grins, peanut butter and jelly and a full pew on Sunday mornings;
Experiences
she shares with each new generation.
To know my
mother’s heart is to know love and sweet Amazing Grace.
My heart,
the hearts of my children – beat, because hers beat first.
No comments:
Post a Comment