I was tough to handle.
Always wanting to play ball.
Let my studies take a back seat
But you wouldn't have it at all.
Sent me to take piano lessons.
Bought me a violin too.
Had to take Irish tap dancing
My talent you knew.
Depression set in, money tight.
Dropped all but my violin lessons.
Was my schools first violinist
We won the New York City championship.
In my old age writing poetry came forth.
I knew it had to have its bearing
On the schools my mom sent me too.
She knew the value of a good education.
Thanks Mom, Happy Mothers Day in Heaven.
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I didn't know that you are a violin virtuoso and that your talent for poetry only came later in life. You have succeeded for your mother much better than I, and I applaud that as well as this poem in her honor.
My mother still lives at 90 and misses me a lot. Unfortunately, she is far away and lost her ability to communicate by telephone or email a couple of years ago. I will try to, at great effort and expense, see her this year before she has no more years left.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane