She the mother

She’s probably on streets the world over
But you only pay attention to her when you don’t expect her,
That lady who is always a mother to all
To friend and stranger
You’ll know her when you see her in a glance
Has to know if you are warm,  happy and fed
Whether or not she has children of her own to hold
She has made a child of you
This is no belittlement just a sign of human grace
This person cares for any and all
Why can’t that include you? 
You could be nine years old or ninety she’ll care for you the same
Don’t mistake her care for anything but love of human race
I met one of these momma ladies upon a cobbled street
All wrapped up against the cold she felt
But she stopped her day to greet
The stranger in her villageshe chose to care for was me
She had to know if I was well and warm
Before she’d go on her way
Our language it was different,  gestures did just fine
Somehow our words were of no matter
I knew hers and she knew mine.
Once she was satisfied that all was well and good
Just like any other momma she told me I needed to get warm
Even though I wasn’t cold, and get inside beside a fire
And get some decent food.
I haven’t met her before or since but my heart was warmer for it
That lady,  momma, grandma, nonna,
Showed her light of caring it shone so bright
I’m touched beyond measure by the caring of that stranger
Who decided that she saw a child no matter of their age
Just for one moment I was a hand,  a heart to hold.


©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015


Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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