The Mountain Laurel
The Journal of Mountain Life

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from the
Heart of the Blue Ridge

To Mom

By Walter Lee Eames, Sr. © 1991

Issue: May, 1991

Editor's Note... This poem was sent to us by Wanda L. Eames, who said, "This poem was found in my grandmother's trunk and read at her funeral in September, 1990." The poem was written by her father for his mother.

As you grow older and your hair turns gray,
I think of the way things used to be in our younger day.

I remember when I sat on your knee
and you hugged and said you loved me.

I remember at the old brick house beside of the stove
Where we warmed our feet to keep away a bad cold.

I remember the mustard plaster, the honey and tea.
Just another way you showed your love for me.

I remember the wood choppings and corn shuckings too,
And all the good times I spent with you.

I remember when Father died and things looked bad.
You, Mother, and all of us kids were so sad.

I remember when we were all so blue,
But we kids knew you would see us through.

I remember when I left home and went my own way,
How sad you were when I told you that day.

But thank God things don't stay the same each day,
Especially when we take the time to pray.

There is so much, Mom, that I owe to you,
Even the life I'm passing through.

I hope in some way to pass the good things on,
And meet you one day at God's holy throne.

While we are still living, I give this to you,
To show the love I have for you.