O, Mammy if you'd met her
She'd take your breath away;
There's peace in her demeanor,
At sleep or at play.
There's affection in her movements,
And more than I can say.
Her eyes are lighthouse beacons,
Her skin is sculpted clay;
Her hands grab at my heart
With vice-like claws of love;
Oh, Mammy
Please watch over her
As you watched over us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem