By: Leo Lawton
July 2, 1999
Live sculpture, that’s what mama is, furrowed brow, worn hands,
cheeks chisled by the wind and sun,
a work of art.
Rodin himself could never capture that look of consternation that is hers,
whenever one of her children might,
face a hidden danger.
She is my rainbow in heaven, my rock of gibralter, my fence to lean on,
my best friend, my guiding angel,
light of my life.
I have told her of these many things for which I now speak to you,
yet does she truly know how much,
she means to me?
There will come a day when I shall no longer find comfort in her smile,
her gentle knowing glance,
her being there.
Yet she will always be there in my heart, watching over me in time of need,
like an eagle scanning from above,
for present danger.
Mama cared, mama shared, mama loved, mama kissed away my pain,
mama was my mama,
and I loved her so.