The Mother hidden ghostly, away, away, In dusty books and manuscripts From a well-remembered day, When she cooked the strawberry pies, And made sure the scrapes were mended, Despite the struggles and the cries. A force within the PTA, the PTA, The Mother tangled with her friends Who had a lot to say About classes for the children's minds, Where stolen numbers were recovered, Found in the banana peels and orange rinds. Custards and cakes, cookies, hooray, hooray, The children rushed around the lemonade stand, Drinking fluorescent liquid, in a hurry to play. Smiling at the son who just kept winning at life, The Mother stood with the red lipstick and apron, Soon her son would find a short but smiling wife. Holiday lights, gifts finally arrive today, today, The women wove the wreath, the stockings, the hem, Cooked the ham and the turkey so all would stay, Content and happy beneath the holly and gold, Waiting to unwrap the presents and treasures. The hands were warm and easy to hold.
Blessings to everyone! 😊