A Mother’s Eye

“This poem is dedicated to
My wife, Melissa,
My mother, Lorraine,
My stepmother, Zona,
And every mother out there.
Happy Mother’s Day!”

If you ever wondered what she sees,
A mother, paused with muscles sore,
Looking far away. Then know this –
A mother’s eye sees more.

Mother's Love

She sees the kick, soft and silent,
Long ago in the womb;
A crib, then a bib,
The final diaper, finally entombed.

She sees the first day of school
As if it were today;
A baseball glove, a favorite doll,
Long ago put away.

She sees the first date
And a prom dress;
Shiny car keys, a dented fender,
Wounded pride to caress.

She sees years pass, too fast,
A final goodbye at the door;
A call from college, needs money,
Phone calls no more.

She sees a missing bed,
A sleeping head once kissed;
A father’s study now, tidy,
Stinky socks are missed.

She sees a bride
And a groom hand in hand;
A honeymoon, the bedroom,
Happy news so grand.

Then a blink and back to work
But you’ll understand her sigh.
Because she’s always seen it all –
Through her mother’s eye.

About Eric Winger

Our perception of time is key to how we use our time. The most fundamental way to change that perception is to give our time. This opens us up to new opportunities and ideas from which we can build to really make a difference. ... Yes, we *do* have time to make a difference!
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