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Harvest Festivals Net
Poems and Lyrics
Mother
They were lovely, all the mothers
With their gentle, quiet faces
And their hair as white as snow.
They were middle-aged at forty,
at fifty donned lace caps
And at sixty clung to shoulder shawls
and loved their little naps.
But I love the modern mother
who can share in all our joys,
And who understands the problems
of her growing girls and boys.
She may boast that she's older,
but her heart is twenty-three...
My glorious bright-eyed mother
Who is keeping young with me.
- Author Unknown
   
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