Mother
-- by Steve Topping - Copyright 1998 -- topwheel@softcom.net
A Long Way from Here, Is My Home So Dear
And I will Be Heading That Way Soon
I Will Be Looking at Rivers, Running Cold and Clear
And at Mountains, Looking as High as the Moon
Look For Me Mother, As I Walk Up The Lane
Look Hard, Because You Wont Recognize My Walk
I've Slowed And I Walk With The Help Of A Cane
But, You Will Know It's Me The Minute You Hear Me Talk
The Prison Years Have Taken Their Toll, Since The Day I Left
I've Walked And Walked And It's Been Days Since I've Slept
I Want To Come Home, To Rest Up And Mend
I Want To Be There, Before My Life Comes To An End
I Walk Up The Lane And As I Look Toward The House
I Can See Mother Waiting, Just As Quiet As A Mouse
Is That You Son? As She Turns With A Smile On Her Face
Her Pretty Gingham Apron All Fringed With White Lace
The Days Roll By As Mother Takes Me In Tow
Looks Like I'll Make It, For She Has Made My Life Glow
No, Is A Word Not Known While Under Her Hand
Cooking And Serving Me The Best That She Can
The Weeks Roll By And My Mind Begins To Understand
That Riches Are Not Gold, As Is Life Under A Mothers Hand
Her Watching And Waiting For A Sign Of Mend
Dear Mother Of Mine, Will Your Struggles Never End?
The Time Has Past And It's Been Years Since Mother Died
I Look At Her Picture And I Swell Up With Pride
To Have Had A Mother More Precious Than Gold
And To Enjoy These Golden Memories Now That I'm Old