When I look at you I see a miracle to be beheld.
A treasured branch with vines that you nurtured and taught well.
I see in you the grace of God, a vessel sometimes worn.
A watered vineyard with roots running deep, so beautifully adorned.
You are to me a flower, so bright and sweetly scented.
Though thorns sometimes have pierced you, your grace was not prevented.
As in every garden, a weed may somehow grow.
But when weeds presented themselves to you, you knew just where to go.
I’m thankful for that garden that produced you as it’s rose, with stems strong and petals high, so fragrant to the nose.
Yes Mother, you are my flower, and I treasure you every day.
So it is with humbled heart and love so true that I say “Happy Birthday !”