Most often when we think of Mom
We think of what she's given.
The softness of a loving touch,
A gentle guide for living.
A nightly tip-toe in a room,
An understanding look.
But, sometimes when I think of mom,
I think of what she took.
She took a child and taught it how to live this life with pride,
She took those kindergarten tears and kept them all inside.
She took the hands that longed to hold,
Her child and not let go,
used them to push her child along,
The way, to thrive and grow.
Took some time to do some other things,
Like sew and clean and cook,
And never thought to ask for thanks,
For all the things she took.