Each day she wakes, and rubs her eyes, starting the circle of her sacrafice
It's way too much of herself she gives, forgetting herself to take care of them
All the way back, in her life, the story is the same of her sacrafice
And when she gives, make no mistake, she gives everything, whatever it takes
As years go by, she never turns her back on them, not caring for herself, giving all she can
Here she sits, it's still the same, each and every morning never a change
Why don't she quit, they use every drop of love, that she has to give which came from above
It's not to late, there still is time, true love has finally found her, but she's withered inside
Her giving began, to provide for her girl, silently fading. she is the Mother of the World.

Dedicated to Lisa... love will find a way.

© Arwood