The years reflect an image,
An image of you and me.
Reflect expressions sad and wan,
Or smiles of ecstasy.
Recorded are the little. things,
Each loving kindness shown;
An open book that we may see,
A record true, our own.
Reflected are the laughing eyes,
Grandchildren filled with glee;
Or soulful groans from aching joints
Of old folks. You and me.
And side by side we're looking
Into this magic glass;
And stand amazed at what we see -
No longer lad and lass.
The tiny wrinkles zig and zag,
We're aging, can't deny;
Get up and go has up and went -
'Tis not for me to sigh.
Three score fifteen and three score six,
An old time Ma and Pa;
Our speech is gone, can only look,
O'ercome with blighting awe.
The hair shows thin on the old boy's dome,
Ma's locks are tinged with gray;
A long way back twixt now and then,
From December's cold to May.
They say the snows have fallen,
Of life a vital part;
But the joyful warmth of summer
Abides within our hearts.
Now 'tis the day for remembering
Our mothers, bless them all.
A day to dream and reminisce,
A day to heed the call
Of tenderness and wondrous love
To guide us on our way;
And may this image e'er be yours
On this glad "Mothers' Day".
With love,
Dad
May 14, 1961