"I want to thank all those from around the world who come and read the poetry that God inspires me with. This site shall always be totally free for everyone with no tracking, pop-ups or other distractions." ~louis gander

May 19, 2011

Apron Strings 5-19-11


When I was young,
I often clung,
to many little things.
I'd reach up high,
again retie,
my mama's apron strings.

I sometimes did,
what mom forbid,
although she'd make it clear.
Thoughts still linger.
I remember,
through each fleeting year.

Acquainted still,
her stories thrill,
with many left untold.
I can't go back,
though mem'ries track,
to years I'd rather hold.

I'm lost in thought,
it can't be caught,
despite my futile search -
mama singing,
mama bringing,
this small boy to church.

Though I was touched,
and changed so much,
through Christ, the perfect One -
I cannot stay,
time slips away,
from all that she had done.

I try to grasp,
and hands I clasp,
around those many things -
but mem-ry strands,
slip through my hands -
just like those apron strings.

I miss her so.
Emotions show.
There's moistness in my eyes.
I can't withhold,
though I am old,
my oft guilt-ridden cries.

But it's not bad,
for I am glad,
whenever I think of -
my mama's cares,
my mama's prayers,
and her most precious love.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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