With gentleness she guides me,
Shaping and molding my soul,
Using herself so I can see,
How to make my life whole.

Through tenderness and kindness,
She comforts my troubled self.
Leading me past the blindness,
To place my trials on a shelf.

My mom raised me with love and grace,
Portraying the spirit we possess,
She encouraged me to find my place,
So my life could be a success. 



©2003 Deanna Henderson