Someone once asked me,
How I'd describe my mother.
I knew that I could tell them,
Using one word and no other.
That very word is
every
.
Now please, let me explain.
Who is there
every
time I'm sick,
Or
every
time I am in pain.
Who was there for
every
function,
And, for
every
tear I cried.
Who sees
every
fault I have,
Yet knows
every
time I tried.
Who loves me
every
single day,
And knows my
every
hope.
Who watches
every
step I take,
And pushes
every
time I mope.
Mother means so much to me.
She's
every
song I sing.
She's the apple of my eye.
She is my '
every
' thing.
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Verse used with permission. Copyright 2004 by Claytia Doran
Midi "Mist On The Mountain" Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved
Composed by:
Bill Sandy - Mystifying Music
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