Mother

I cannot profess to be a poet, but I do love to write –

As the snow fell, and the icy winds howled

On a bleak December Saturday she was born into this world

The Highlands of Scotland is where she drew her first breath

The Highlands of Scotland is where she would leave and find her own path

Her auburn locks of copper were long and full,

Like the Highland thistle she was pure and beautiful

There is more to life than than haggis, neeps and tatties

There is more to life than the strap, if you are lucky

Life was hard, it is sad to say, 

And from the Highlands she wished herself away

She came from the blood of travelers in times past,

And so the itch to travel, it never did pass.

Southward bound, across the border

To jolly old England and all she could offer

London was where she met her true love

And soon she would have her own children to love

The years were not always a bed of roses and brilliance,

But she kept the family together with her Highland resilience

Still with her first true love by her side

She laughs and smiles, blue eyes open wide 

And now in the twilight of her life

She lives simply, without much strife

This amazing woman who is so humble

She is my mother, whom I love and look up to