Many wonderful poems have been written about mothers. One of my favorites brings back memories of a special event during World War 2. I was excused from grade school, located across the street from the Darrington, Washington church where the Ladies Aid met, long enough to recite a poem at their Mother’s Day meeting.
Somebody’s Mother, Mary Dow Brine, 1816-1913
The woman was old and ragged and gray and bent with the chill of the winter’s day. The street was wet with a recent snow and the woman’s feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng, of human beings who passed her by, nor heeded the glance of her anxious eyes.
Down the street, with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of “school let out,” came the boys like a flock of sheep, hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray, hastened the children on their way nor offered a helping hand to her —so meek, so timid, afraid to stir lest the carriage wheels or the horses’ feet, should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came out of the merry troop, the happiest boy of all the group; He paused beside her, and whispered low, “I’ll help you across, if you wish to go.”
Her aged hand on his strong young arm she placed, and so without hurt or harm, he guided the trembling feet along, proud that his own were young and strong; Then back again to his friends he went, his young heart happy and well content.
“She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know,
For all she’s aged, and poor, and slow.
And some one, some time, may lend a hand.
To help my mother—you understand?
If ever she’s poor, and old, and gray,
And her own dear boy is far away.”
“Somebody’s mother” bowed low her head,
In her home that night, and the prayer she said was: “God, be kind to that noble boy,
Who is somebody’s son, and pride and joy.”
Faint was the voice, and worn and weak,
But the Father hears when His children speak.
Angels caught the faltering word,
And “Somebody’s Mother’s” prayer was heard.
I thank God for my mother, Pearl Towne Reece, for a million or more prayers. I was privileged to have her in my life for almost 96 wonderful years before she was called to heaven. Her example lives on in all who knew her.
Colleen
Colleen's Creations 
Such a beautiful Testament to your mother and your own creative, caring life ❤️
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Beautiful poem that I’ve never read before, thank you for sharing it, Colleen.
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