She's as sweet as an apple, and wears a kind face.
A stranger you're not, if you bump into her; she'll listen intently, and lively concern.
She's there when you need her, with no hesitation.
She'll share in your sorrow or peak your elation.
She's had some hard times and sometimes she still does;
yet her strength and her faith, makes them days that once was.
Whenever she suffers; I most likely do too, for her heart is too golden not to shine through.
The gifts she has given most precious to me even; i'm not the one was give in
That's why Mom; you raised such a great girl and you are the apple, of my admiring eye.
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