The Picture

She came across a photograph
That was taken long ago
Two people standing hand in hand
But one she did not know
She called her Dad to take a look
And held the picture out
“Who is that woman by your side
With the soft, smiling mouth?”
He looked at it and tried to hide
The tears that filled his eyes
He whispered that “It was my wife;
When you were born – she died.”

She put the picture in a frame
And placed it by her bed
And every time she looked at it
She thought of what he said:
“She was a lady, sweet and good
So pretty and so kind
The love we had will never die
She’s with me all the time
Whenever I look at your face
Your Mother’s smile I see
Maybe now you can understand
Why you mean so much to me.”

© 2001 Fay Herridge

Roaming Thoughts

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