Her face has grown familiar with the tender trace of tears
Her heart is like a stronghold held in place by prayers and
years
Her hands have learned the art of folding close while
letting go
The tug-of-war that tests the best of Her, her joy and woe
She dances while the dew of death wreaths every breath of
life
She watches though she will not see the full-fruit of her
strife
She labors though Her spoils of toil may seem a humble prize
She runs her race for more than Fame’s delight of hollow
sighs
She values words like Family and Husband, Daughter, Son
She cherishes the happiness of smiles; ‘I love you, mom’
She does not count for nothing, second miles nobody sees
For she has learned how soft and smooth Time seals its
reels with ease
Her face becomes a maze of love-lines, glazed oft-times with
This
…the silver-lining from the mold of have-and-hold’s keen kiss
But still, she asks for nothing more, for heaven understood
And bent to kiss Her brow and crown Her days with Motherhood
© Janet Martin
We hardly had any 'just-us' days this summer, Victoria commented off-handedly to me the other day.
She didn't see my heart lurch with greedy sorrow:)
Off to make some memories, Lord willing, in the friendship of an answered prayer...I might share more tomorrow. We'll see how the day goes.