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A Father's JoyShe sings while cooking Her pretty soprano voice Fills the air Still echoes in my ears. . Her tattered apron Tied around her waist Simple as it was Wiped the drops of our tears. I see her in my memories Every now and then Her long brownish hair Caught up in a ponytail. Her smile that shines Like the sun breaking Through a cloudy sky This lovely Abigail. A joy of the Father More precious than jewels This woman of beauty Lives in my heart. My mother, so dear, Loved and nurtured Comforted me She is God's work of art. ~Leona M. Mars~ November 27, 2014 Today is Thanksgiving Day, thoughts of my Mother fills my mind as my sons and I prepare Thanksgiving dinner. My sons make the most wonderful pies and delicious Green Bean Casserole! My Mother's name was not Abigail. Abigail means "A father's joy" in Hebrew. My Mother was our joy from the Heavenly Father. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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