It's hard indeed to speak the words that properly explain

The joy that rests upon the heart when rescued from certain pain.

It's hard to believe that someone loves so great a fool as I.

That one should care and burden bare to such a measure that they would cry.

Yet in this fold which I have place,

I've found such love in one kind face.

In one who's been forsaken by the ones she's called her own-

She willingly turned her affections toward an orphan all alone.

For in this fine house with treasures all around,

There is a delicate rose I'm blessed to have found.

She's rare, indeed, and true, I say, I deserve it not at all.

But I know, I know, if a "Mother" I need, on this one I can call.

Through words I write and songs I sing;

Through gifts with my hands, I may bring-

There's nothing like the gleem,

In the eyes of my "Mother".
 

-To my "Mother" - Ms. Barbara Grapp

From your loving "Son", by the Grace of God,

Robert Hunt

1997