FROM MOM TO ME TO YOU

Standing proudly on the mantle, its gilded frame adorns,
A hundred year old photograph that’s faded, cracked, and torn.
Grandpa was a farmer, his crops would surely feed,
A wife and 8 small children with things they’d always need.

Grandma rose each morning, long before the sun,
With farming came the chores that never would get done.
In ‘Sunday’s best’, they’ve gathered, washed & hair in place,
To freeze one single moment, in a family’s warm embrace.

I often look at Mama, the third girl from the right,
Wondering what reflections shone through innocent eyes.
What dreams were somewhere waiting on her to grab onto?
Could she glimpse into the future and know the things she’d do?

Time will never falter, it steadily marches on;
Mama grew to womanhood and left her country home.
She fell in love with Daddy when he first came back from war,
All too soon their ‘nest’ grew from two to four.

Daddy worked long hours, from dawn to way past dark,
Though tired they found the time and never lost their spark.
Our home was full of laughter, faith and love we learned,
Never take for granted that honor’s something earned.

Each child would later know just how much we were taught,
Though poorer than a church mouse, we’re rich in things not bought.
And so to you, my children, I pray you’ve learned to pace
Your walk through life’s long journey is carved on Elder’s face.

Cherish every moment, you’ll crawl before you walk,
Learn from yesterday and practice what you talk.
The chain of love is widening with every photo made,
From Mom to me to you, give more than what you take.

©Copyright May 13, 2008 by Lynn C. Price