A pot of gold.

Pressed between the pages
of a bible etched in gold,
a worn old piece of paper
discoloured where it folds.

And on that piece of paper
are words so close to me,
hand written by my mother
when I was barely three.

My mother died and left me
I'd just turned seventeen,
she was sitting by the fire
she stayed inside her dream.

One day I found her bible
I opened it up with pride,
pressed between the pages
was this little note inside.

"An Angel must have blessed me
for I've found a pot of gold,
a beautiful baby daughter
on the doorstep in the cold.
Her hair just like the sunshine
and those eyes of baby blue,
my prayers were finally answered
every night I prayed for you".

I keep that same old bible
the one that held the note,
now pressed between the pages
is something that I wrote.

" An Angel must have blessed me
for I found my pot of gold,
a mother whom I really loved
that found me in the cold.
Her smile it was my sunshine
in her arms I'd feel secure,
please keep her safe in heaven
no daughter could ask for more".

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A pot of gold.

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