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My mother gave us words
Mothers hand out many things Marmite soldiers, baby swings Fairy wands and painted wings But my mother gave us words. She brought them in, those travelling bards Those alchemists of eloquence To nightly pace our parquet flooring Leaving stardust trails of words That drifted through our sleep-tossed turning Their drowsy syllables enthralling With visions of some half glimpsed world Far beyond our heart-stitched yearning She denounced those words that blight, Words that hang their heads in shame Like prejudice, exploit, abuse And cast out their shadow with the light of words that glow with steady flame - Respect, compassion, fortitude My mother gave us words to fly Our wings to spread, our fears to quell To send us soaring through the sky - And words to catch us, when we fell Flamboyant words that never slept But danced all night on moonlit streets Giddy as a young girl’s heart Small humble words that softly crept And curled themselves beneath tired feet With some quiet wisdom to impart And silly words to make us smile Sassy words to give us style Sombre words to enfold our sorrow Words of hope to raise tomorrow Words to play with, words to plunder Words to fill our minds with wonder Words to free our headstrong dreams Words to trail in mountain streams Mothers give us many things Healing balms to doctor stings Lullabies and magic rings - But my mother gave us Words. © Bridget Pitt |
