Oh Lord, I do not wish for much, Eternal beauty or youth or such.

Just give me a little hand to hold, and I'll forget I'm growing old.

I do not ask for cloudless skies, a life that's free from tears and sighs.

Just give me a little face to kiss and anxious moments will turn to bliss.

For what is there really, that means so much, as little hands that reach and touch.

And little eyes that search and see, only the best in fragile me.

So let me grow more loving and wise, as I gaze into their little eyes.

Tis' through this little one you have given, this grateful Grandmother a glimpse of heaven

-a poem by Barbara Burrows

our dear sweet Harper on Mother's day