My Mother loved our family home
and she worked her fingers to the bone .
She worked in jobs that weren’t appealing
and never said what she was feeling .
She struggled so hard for many years ,
Through troubled times .
Wrestling the fears .
Just so we could be happy and safe ,
A woman of strength and she has faith .
My mother is so unique and rare
Her love is unconditionally there .
Cleaning until the house is glistening .
She always has time for listening .
She finds many ways to make things do ,
Like big pots of soup and Irish stew , .
Standing baking apple cakes and scones ,
stretching a smile from behind the yawns .
My mother’s life is her family ,
She’s dedicated it all gladly ,
What can anyone say about her.
She’s beautiful .
I love my Mother .

By Paul McCann