Memories drift and gather in the corners of my mind,
No brighter compilation a girl could ever find.

Sketches of a mother’s smile and of her warm embrace,
A love that spans the oceans, a kind un-judging face.

She’ll say she’s no spring chicken; young bones they have grown old,
Once where there was fire, now silver troupes with gold.

Winter ‘tis the season I know that she loves best,
Festive lights on Christmas night she holds above the rest.

She is my anchor in the storm, I am her desert bloom,
What blessed life she’s given me, a seed within her womb.

No stranger dream of Heaven there is that I can see,
For what I know for certain: what is was meant to be.

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