La'Trisha Monique Pruitt
May 16 1981 - November 24 2007
Winnie,You turned out even better
Than I often dreamed you’d be;
You’re more than I had hoped for;
You’re a sweet reward to me.
You grew up to be a mother
Full of wisdom, warmth and love,
A good and fine role model,
A blessing from above.
I couldn’t be any prouder
Than I am today of you;
You’re my daughter and my friend,
And a wonderful person, too.
You have my love forever;
I adored you from the start;
It’s a privilege to be your mother,
Dear daughter of my heart.
God took the fragrance of a flower...
The majesty of a tree...
The gentleness of morning dew...
The calm of a quiet sea...
The beauty of the twilight hour...
The soul of a starry night...
The laughter of a rippling brook...
The grace of a bird in flight...
Then God fashioned from these things
A creation like no other,
And when his masterpiece was through
He called it simply - Mother.
God knew that little ones need love
so He created mothers
With understanding hearts and
gentle hands that care for others...
They feed us and they hug us
and they help us find our things...
Then later on, they step aside
and let us try our wings...
We know the're always on our side
whatever may befall,
That's why we need them just as much
when we're no longer small...
Yes, God created mothers
to give love their whole lives through...
That's why they're treasured very much
especially one like you!
She Walks in elegance whose heart
Is filled with beauty, like the sprong
Her gentlenss is but a part
Of all the joy her graces bring.
The things she taught me at her knee
Are honesty and faith and love,
No one is lovelier than she
Whose soul is joined with things above.
When, in memory, I see my Mom, I find her there
The way she looked when I was young, with her pretty hair.
Enthusiastic, full of fun, her eyes with mischief glow
To guard a secret she has kept -- not yet for us to know.
And when, with laughter, we explode while jokes she is relaying,
She makes them sound much funnier when you hear what she is saying.
I see her singing while she works in time with every tune --
When scrubbing, ironing, mixing food -- plus her "sooth-the-infant" croon.
I hope this family of mine my face will memorize,
Not how it looks when I am old, but seen through "childlike" eyes.
I love my memory of Mom -- of me, she is a part --
And every day is Mother's Day, for she lives within my heart!
Our mother is the sweetest and
Most delicate of all.
She knows more of paradise
Than angels can recall.
She's not only beautiful
But passionately young,
Playful as a kid, yet wise
As one who has lived long.
Her love is like the rush of life,
A bubbling, laughing spring
That runs through all like liquid light
And makes the mountains sing.