Mothers have eyes on the backs of our heads. Over all our thoughts there hangs a moon. The love of our creator sends a light Heavenward, to brood upon our night, Essence of love distilled into a tune, Rising with a kiss above our beds.
Mothers have eyes on the backs of our heads.
Over all our thoughts there hangs a moon.
The love of our creator sends a light
Heavenward, to brood upon our night,
Essence of love distilled into a tune,
Rising with a kiss above our beds.