Mother

By Mabel Jones Gabbott

When I hear a laughing brook

And see the blue, blue sky,

I think of Mother.

When I think of walking tall

And of reaching high,

I think of Mother.

When I think of Winter’s cold

And lonely walks to school

On mornings dark and dreary,

Worrying over homework due

Or some forgotten rule,

In thought, my mother’s near me.

We pop corn around a fire,

For our magic story time

With Mother. How we love her!

In sunny times or rain-drenched days,

In every land and clime,

She’s in our hearts, our mother.

Illustrated by Scott Greer