Gifts Not Under The Tree

What are the gifts you keep talking about,
Are they over there, then bring them out.
These presents are gifts not under the tree,
All are gifts of love, my Mother gave to me.

Well, can't these be bought in any store,
No, they were gifts from a Mother I adore.
There is something I must admit to you,
It is late in my life this is getting through.

Loving me forever never was there doubt,
This was the one thing I didn't worry about.
Oh, I do miss her and wish she were here,
This Mother of mine who was so very dear.

To share my life with her and let her know,
I really loved her and it continues to grow.
“Why didn’t I show her, why did I wait?”
Always know with God it is never too late.

She can hear me fine, I know this you see,
Giving many other gifts not under the tree.
All the things she had taught to last forever,
Sharing such cherished moments together.

Taking care of me through out every day,
Not a single word against anyone to say.
A calm woman who was loving and kind,
Reading books to me to expand my mind.

Taught to cook, clean house and to drive,
What to do alone now, how will I survive.
Sharing her thoughts to know about hope,
How to live, how to love and how to cope.

What else was given to help me through,
Her faith in God's love, which she knew.
A gift of God's love, not special you say,
This one helped more than I can convey.

If I could go back and choose another,
No one else would I want for my Mother.
“Mother, this poem is to say, I love you,
I truly hope this message gets through.

Brenda Sparkman©
2003
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