“Mother's” to formal and “Mom” is to plain,
And “Ma” sounds to course like a name to complain,
But "Momma's"... so tenderhearted.
I remember at age two how excited I'd be,
at the pictures drawn just especially for me,
By Momma... so tenderhearted.
Then later as I was to start off for school,
a lunch box packed special as a priceless jewel,
By Momma... so tenderhearted.
Who came to my rescue as I'd scuff both my knee's?,
and remind me when ask to always say please?,
Who'd regret to tell Dad when I had been bad,
so the razor straps snap would be spared for her lad?,
And who would listen with patience as I'd violin play,
more of a chore in the early day's I'd say,
it was Momma... the tenderhearted.
Who'd walk my dog Caliban when I was too busy,
or more likely forgot so on the hound would take pity,
Who would cook all day long with two entree's to choose,
and three veggies and tater's and deserts so smooth,
And who made sure I'd get to Sunday School each week,
and cared for my soul that the Lord Jesus I'd meet?,
it was all Momma... so tenderhearted.
Who's voice was so young and sweet on the phone,
new friends would all ask if she was my sister at home,
But no... it was Momma so tenderhearted.
Then later as I'd get my license to drive,
and take off on travels to and far wide,
Momma'd pray... so tenderhearted.
And who was an example to all that she knew,
when Dad's life was taken so tragically soon?,
Momma... God strengthen-hearted.
I know that the Lord had a hedge of protection,
around your dear boy as I look in reflection.
and thank you for those few gray hair's I caused,
and love you with all of my heart... while I pause,
and tell you that there could never been better,
then to the one I dedicate this letter…
My Momma the Tenderhearted.
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