A life given in love. Mum Gentle She Was.

My mum has been dead a long time over 20years. I still miss her so much. I wrote this poem in her honour. I tend to bring it out most years.

© willowdot21.Mum

Gentle she was.

Gentle she was, a young woman of means, beautiful in her Marcel Wave she was.

A hair dresser with her own salon, a teaser of hair and tresses.

Then the quiet Irish man took her eye and her heart.

Not impressed were her parents with the young Irish trade unionist from the motor trade.

Time eventually brought them round to accept the vows the young couple had made.

Grief she bore when her fist born died at six months

Brave she was to have more. Three girls then two boys , and two more angels lost in-between.

Then after all was finished, came me making six.

Hard she worked to bring us up and support her quiet man who was there for her too.

Kind she was, good and open hearted she was.

The door always open to family and waifs and strays

Big hearted she was to all who past through our door.

Always there she was, with words of wisdom and comfort.

Her beautiful heart shone through her eyes.

Patient she was but there was temper there if needed,

She was not strong or mean but if needed her children and her man she would defend to the death!

Beautiful she was in features and in heart

There was not task she would not finish if she had made a start.

Cried for her daughters she did as her man gave them away

And when her sons went too she had a proud day.

Together alone by themselves again.

Happy she was full of the business of her quiet man.

Yet she was always ready to talk and help and ease our pain.

Cleaver she was but not school or college wise she was wise in life and love and truth and need.

Lonely she was when her man was taken ,

Wept she did as she wanted to join him.

Lost she was without the quiet man .

Heart broken she became though she threw herself in to caring for grandchildren.

Gone she was before her body, her mind and soul went to him.

Lost to us she was, a smile here and there maybe a flash of recognition.

Unknowing of all around her she was, sad eyed frighted lamb lonely, lonely.

Tiny she was sadly lost to us long before,

Gone into her mind to find her quiet man.

Tears we shed for her,we wept in grief and I in anger because so long had she been gone and I had wanted to talk to her,

But gone she really was.

Anemones her favourite flowers were they always remind me of her.

I forgave her for leaving me and now accept she had to go

As by the side of her quiet man was where she had to be.

Never to be forgotten.