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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