A poem for my Mother,
A banner marking narrow paths to tread,
A staff that guides me in His stead,
For these precious days of youth,
For these precious days of youth,

A poem for my Mother,
A firm handshake and jolly laugh,
A mother of many hats and parts,
For these busy days of youth,
For these busy days of youth,

Ramping up to leave the nest,
'Twas cozy but its for the best,
You've given me so firm a ground,
To hurtle off into the sky.

A staccato story,
A man walks,
To meet a friend,
It's bright out today,
Oops just passed the place,
Oh hey,
How longs the wait?
Oh well good to see you,
We should do this again,
A man walks,
Heading back,
It's a little quieter now.