“Next year will be better,” –it was that kind of year.
You took what we offered, and made do.
Not always with cheer–not that kind of year.
You still look tallish, fresh and pretty
Not many women look good in “pretty” anymore–
but you do.
Like a blue and yellow flower. We need flowers this kind of year.
You still sound good in the morning, telling me
not to be discouraged
(But that’s what mothers do for children!)
Oh well, it was that kind of year–mornings;
Next year will–is already–better.
Because we found out who we needed and
who disappoints us the most and that
they are the same person.
And that’s why now is better–we
are still here together, knowing things
Mother’s Day always confused me
(even more than Father’s Day
But now I think I understand it better.
You’re my wife showing me how to
be strong, and caring for our children
No matter what kind of morning