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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