To Mother on her birthday

March 8, 1999
 
 

Someone special calls you "Blondie", yet others Norma Lou,

But I proudly call you "Mom" with reverence in my voice.

Like a potter molding clay you always knew,

It was your will that finally shaped my choice.
 
 

The tears that flow in remembrance of a stately water tower,

Lets me know you sometimes wish God had a different plan.

Yet, His plan and direction for my life will never sour,

Since your never ceasing prayers continue to make me a man.
 
 

I was born into this world by you who met my cries with joy.

I could search in vain for that special gift. What could it be?

Russell Stovers, flowers, and redbirds are a useless child's toy.

What do you give someone that made me glad I'm me?
 
 

And so I came to be someone "I" could be proud of.

I was raised in love by someone that supplied me with the key.

For this I give you, mom, my gratitude and my love.

My gift to you will come that day when I join you in eternity.