MY MOTHER

Today would have been my mother's birthday.  She died 29 years ago in March but I still feel her presence near on occasions.  I therefore dedicate the following few verses to her from the poem My Mother by Ann Taylor

Who fed me from her gentle breast, And hushed me in her arms to rest,

And on my cheeks sweet kisses pressed? My Mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye, Who was it sung sweet hushabye.

And rocked me that I should not cry? My Mother.

Who sat and watched my infant head, When sleeping on my cradle bed?

And tears of sweet affection shed? My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry, Who gazed upon my heavy eye,

And wept for fear that I should die? My Mother.

Who dressed my doll in clothes so gay? And taught me pretty how to play,

And minded all I had to say? My Mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell,

Or kiss the place to make it well My Mother.

(Thanks Mumx)

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 My mother was always busy sewing, she could make anything. I do wish I had followed in her footsteps. She was a very gentle lady who enjoyed meeting people and was always very smart. She also enjoyed cooking and used to make a lot of cakes for village people. Having made them she would send me off around the village carrying a little basket containing the cakes to present to the old people in the local cottages. My mother and my Auntie Rene used to make the cakes for events at the Hurst Chapel and their cake stall at the yearly fete was a great success. My Auntie Rene was also in demand for making and decorating wedding cakes and people would come from miles around to have her decorate their cake for their special occasion.
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My mother suffered from Parkinsons Disease and underwent an operation to slow down the process. Over the years I have managed to collect large amounts for the Society and in November last year raised £600 from a party I gave in the village. I hope that eventually a cure will be found.