The following poem was written as a tribute to my mother around the year 2000. My mother was a cleaning lady for about 34 years (till time of her stroke at age 59) and just loved her job. It was hard for me (her daughter) to understand why she of all people had to endure such a massive stroke in her life. What I learned to treasure most, after her stroke, was that her ability to carry her family in prayer was still there and that was more important to me than anything else. *My Mother* Her hands were a blur, and her feet, they just flew As she dusted and vacuumed, and made it all new. Her heart had a song as she worked all day long, She liked to make others happy, was that so wrong? So with her eyes all bright and her heart so light, She gave and gave with all her might. My Mother* At the end of the day, with a long way to trudge, She stepped right along, without needing a nudge. Though traffic was heavy and bus transfers unending, Her smile never wavered, on the road she was wending, Home, to the family she loved and adored. She gave and she gave - till she could give no more. My Mother* Her hands now lie silent, for they can nevermore share, In those tasks and tools, they had handled with care. Her feet that once flew over distances great, Shuffle slowly along, at a much slower gait. But deep down inside, beats a heart to the finish, To give and to give of her love to others. My Mother* Through troubles and triumphs of life we must go, How wonderful if we have something to show, For the legacy left us by ones we hold dear, We have much to accomplish, in this world, I fear. A torch is being passed from those hands into ours, Where once there was strength, they now trust in our powers, To give and to give with all of OUR might. Her Daughter