Spread over me sweet wind of time

Bringing memories of children to my mind

For in those days of laboring births

My heart was filled with life on Earth.

Into my hands God presented three gifts

Just tiny forms which grew much too swift.

I recall each first from words not a few

I remember their smell like heaven’s sweet dew.

I am not a mother because of success

That’s simply a title like all of the rest.

I am a mom because love has grown

And I pray they remember there is no place like home.