My mom is like a lovely rose
That in a garden grew
Her petals delicate and soft
Though round them cold winds blew

And pa pa is a wall of stone
To shield her from the blast
And we her children growing up
See in our mom at last

The beauty of a deep red rose
That is her tender heart
Grown rich in loving sacrifice
Never from us apart

And when her Savior's time has come
He'll take her to his breast
Transplant her in a garden fair
And her eternal rest

And in the sunshine of His love
Her petals open wide
And we together with her there
For always at her side.
Mom
Copyright 2005, David Bingham
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copying any poems from this website.


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