Here is to my mother
who has never understood me,
has cried and argued
about the way I am,
tried and tried to help me live.

Here is to my mother
who has always been there,
helping and holding,
yelling and soothing,
loving and hating
me at the same time.

Here is to my mother
who loves me very much
and thinks I am incapable of loving
because we don't express it the same way

Here is to my mother
because we are miles apart,
trying to understand each other,
hurting each other with bitter words,
always coming back because we can't give up

here is to my mother
who has been to hell and back
because of me,
and will probably tread that road many times more,
and because of that,
and all she is,
all she has done,
all she will do,
I love her dearly
as she never seems to know.


(c) 1976 Nan C.