Find similar stories in Children >> Death >> Motherhood

A Mother’s Prize

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: +12 (from 14 votes)

As I am living in my final days,

I don’t desire laurels or flowers or praise;

I’ve already been blessed with the prize that I sought

That with gold or silver or pearls can’t be bought;

The legacy I leave is my children now grown

Who are happy and strong and can stand on their own.

By Betty Killebrew

May 4, 2009

(In Memory of a friend)

Read more articles, stories and poems by Betty Killebrew at:

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: +12 (from 14 votes)
A Mother’s Prize, 86% based on 14 ratings

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>