‘Twas in the merry month of May
That I awoke on Mother’s Day
And opened up the window for fresh air
When who to my surprise appeared before my eyes
As if forever waiting patiently there?
I couldn’t believe my eyes and blurted forth her name
Mother … mother, what are you doing here?
How is it you are able on this sunny day in May
At my window this lovely morning, to suddenly appear?
I blinked, of course, who wouldn’t now …
Unless you’ve never seen a ghost?
What else could she be, she was mother to me
And of all women known, I loved her the most.
She laughed when she saw me wipe my face of a tear
As I reeled back in shock, trembling with fear.
Her laughter then turned into the chuckle I’d hear
Whenever my father would call out, mother dear!
Ah, mother, I’ve forgotten what sweet cookies you bake
And how fluffy and moist are the cakes that you make.
Your cinnamon apple pie under all that melted cheese
With gobs of ice cream on top … another piece please?
Now mother, don’t leave … I want you to know
Without you I’d have probably died long ago.
If it wasn’t for you I would never have survived
Or even come into this world … still alive.
Thank you, mother, for visiting me this memorable way
It’s appropriate for you to appear here on Mother’s Day.
I am glad to have found that you’re really still around
And now know that forever, together we’re bound.
John Crawford Copyright 2020 All Rights Reserved