I imagine mother's first sight
of a baby boy stays with her
when that son goes out of his way
to do something beautiful and right.
A mother's love is made this way.
Under a spring sun
with skies so blue,
you praised the flowers
I brought you.
A mother's love
is made this way.
Dandelions and lilacs,
a lavender and yellow mix
in an antique blued mason jar.
I found it under a bush without a mar,
carefully washed it in the brook out back.
A simple gesture meaning so much.
A mother's love is made this way.
Though many a childhood memory
can cloud,
I distinctly remember you
praising your flower bouquet.
That made me proud.
A mother's love
is made this way.
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