I recall the poems,
That my mother read,
The ones she recited,
As she put me to bed.
Each stanza, each verse,
Is engraved in my mind;
Transporting me back,
Through the years in time.
I remember the softness,
And love in her eyes;
The sound of her voice,
So comforting and wise.
The paths of my youth
So often I tread,
All come back to me,
In the poems that she read.
There were great poems,
and small poems,
And some known by heart;
And some poems with wisdom,
For a young life to start.
And what she taught me,
It cannot be told.
But the poems that she read,
All come back when I’m old.
01/10/05
Gary Bryson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poems-that-she-read/
