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mAmA 107

Another Apronsong for my Mother, Blanche Medorah Cunningham Bowen
on the 107th Anniversary of her Birth (1913 February 06)
�
��
�Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, � �
and he praises her.� �Prov. 31:28 ESV �
� �
your eyes are looking back �
a hundred years �
although no longer can �
they see my tears �
you led me by the hand �
when I was small �
now I am vowed to lead �
you, lest you fall �
if I could smell the flow'rs again �
that nestled on your garden path �
and watch you wipe the bloody stain �
from fingers stung by red-rose wrath! �
� �
old whispered moments � �
echo in your head �
although your ears are but �
as good as dead �
the songs that once regaled �
your lyric tongue �
have ne'er my bosom failed �
since days were young �
you carried me o'er rocky trails �
and saved me from dark, sultry nights �
as strength today your bones curtails �
i'll be your bedside candlelight �
� �
you sacrificed the milk �
of tenderness �
to woo my feet from paths �
of recklessness �
victim of hardship, you �
have struggled long �
yet facing woeful threat�
with hopeful song �
your nimble hands have fashioned dust �
to consummate sufficiency �
equal to life�s deep cut-and-thrust �
how generous your clemency! �
� �
� Copyright 2020 February 05 �
by Clyve A. Bowen♫