(Poem) "Mom, She Did The Best She Could."

"Mom" She Did The Best She Could!

                   
High upon a wind-swept hill
She lies - near kith and kin.
It's where she wanted to be placed
The very plot she's in.
                   
She'd asked to see, some years before,
Just where her grave would be -
And was quite pleased to view the spot
She'd fill eternally.
                   
She loved those hills - They'd been her
Home since she was just a child.
She'd say, "The summers are not hot,
And the winters mild."
                   
She knew the name of every plant -
Of every bird and tree.
I'd often hear her happy voice
Calling "Come and see!"
                   
It may have been a rainbow -
A butterfly or bee,
Some pretty sight she'd come across
And wished to share with me.
                   
She knew her soul would be with God
She'd trusted all her years,
When His call to her had come
She put aside her fears.
                   
She had such little all her life,
Her holdings were so few.
Things did not count so very much;
Her motto was, "Make do."
                   
We cannot talk as once we did
or walk the green spring wood;
But I can almost hear her say,
"I did the best I could."
                   
I stand upon that wind-swept hill
Remembering the past -
But do not grieve because I know
That Mom is "Home At Last!" 

by Marie W. Powell