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My mother lived in a little shack

down by the bayou.

My mother worked from dawn to dusk

to make alligator stew.

 

Her fingers were busy making clothes                                  

Found on 4-27-16 on Pinterest. French Creoles.com.

to clothe her brood of five.

Her face was weary from the stress

of helping her kids survive.

 

Her body was thin and her skin was grey,

from hours without sleep.

She washed the clothes in a big tin tub

and some times she would weep.

 

Day after day, she lived in fear

her man would not come home.

She knew he loved to be outdoors

and often he would roam.

 

She stayed home and did the chores

and worked until they were done.

Then she would lift an old violin

and play with the setting sun.

 

She put the rare violin to her chin,                                        

and her bow went across the strings.

She tapped her foot to the melody,

and her soul sprouted wings.

Found on Pinterest on 11-12-17 sacredspirit.files. wordpress.com.

 

We loved to see her fingers dance

and her eyes reflect pure joy. 

She was beautiful when she smiled

and played for her little boy.

 

Now she has gone to a better place,

but her music still remains

in the halls of  my memories 

When I say her name.

Yu/stan/kema