Mother's Day

I guess we know at an early age we really do belong
A child, innocence pure, sweet and dear
In our wildest young nightmares we waken to a song
A soft, loving remembered voice we long
Fluttered eyelids wake to see our protecting mother near

Later when we grow to wander wild field and dark forbidding glen
Her face pressed against the window with motherly concern
We go forth armed with slingshot rocks that fly with wicked spin
To find a dragon or black knight to end their life of sin
We head home filled with manly things that we have learned

And finally home weak with hunger and torn from battle
Looking for comfort of food and rest we suddenly discover
The neighbor window broken so quick their son did tattle
Oh dear God now I must face our father's homemade paddle
But alas his temper has abated with the heavenly voice of mother

Adulthood has not changed my wanderings very much
Unfortunately dragons and black knights have become very rare
So I traded in my slingshot for fancy cars and such
Still longing for home with memories my mind can touch
And knowing all along my mother will always care

Mitt Winstead 1992

My mother, Matie, passed suddenly in 1996 while visiting from Arizona when I was living in Michigan. I lost my mother, best friend and role model that horrible day. If your mother still lives, hold her close today and spend every moment you can with her. If your mother too has passed, cherish your memories until you meet again in Devine Love.