A Mother's Love
At the fork of the river
the water runs swift,
without an anchor
my boat would drift.
Which way would I go
is anyone's guess.
Would I sink or reach success?
My anchor in life was made with care
From my mother's rocking chair.
Times were hard and weren't always right
But her love held us tight.
Sacrifices she made without much help
It seems alone she must have felt.
At times afraid she would not guide
And into failure we would slide.
Now as I travel down the river of life
my anchor fast and sure,
I will always carry in my heart
My anchor life's troubles-cure.
© By Pauline Hamblin
