Widow and Very Special Mother
In nineteen hundred twenty four,
Because our father died,
Our mother had to go to work,
And swallow family pride.
She had three youngsters then to raise;
It was no easy task;
For handout or for charity,
She wouldn't ever ask.
She paid her way, and theirs, as well,
An everlasting grind:
Example of the highest type
That one could ever find.
From typist to important jobs,
Advancing all the way;
Was dedicated to her work,
And she was there to stay.
She put herself through high school
By attending class at night.
Then evening college studies
Would provide a future, bright.
She taught us things like faith and hope,
And, also, charity.
And, in addition, we were shown,
What's called: frugality.
But, halfway through her college quest
A major war was on.
So, Navy was the uniform
That she would neatly don.
The years she worked in Government
Would total forty two.
And, after that, she settled back,
With other things to do.
She's owned her home for forty years,
And now we help her stay there.
We often go to visit her,
And, now and then, we pray there.
She helps her children even now;
She's not like any other:
One of a kind, perfectionist;
A very special mother.
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