My Mum

By Edith Grindle

Hands as warm as a blanket from the dryer.

There was no doubt to many, reasons she was a cryer.

She had much more heartache that one should endure.

The same seat each Sunday, fifth row on the right.

She wept and she prayed on many a night.

Her faith was so strong and it help her trudge on.

The example from her mother of love from the Son.

Her hand would cover mine and I knew I was safe.

The trust and comfort by the grace on her face.

We sang familiar tunes that bring her back to me now.

I close my eyes and I see her warm smile, the promise I’ll be with her again in a while.

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