|Happy Mother's Day|
I wanted to share with you this lovely poem that I found in a book not long after my mum died. It's very poignant but so true.
THE RUSTY OLD WHEEL by Richard Wilkins
This short tale is how I feel
about my Mum and the Rusty Old Wheel.
The hub of the wheel is what Mum was you see,
we were the spokes, my family and me.
There are many spokes that criss-cross in a wheel,
just like a big family - don't you see it's so real?
At the rim of the wheel the spokes are apart,
yet so close at the hub, where they all start.
We all stayed together, whatever the pace,
like the spokes of a wheel, we all had our place.
There were times when the wheel travelled bumpy ground,
but the hub held the spokes as the wheel went round.
A central point, where all the spokes meet,
at the hub of the wheel, the spokes fit so neat.
But hubs have bearings that age and wear out,
with no hub to hold them, spokes rattle about.
Though still fixed at the rim, what could you expect?
The spokes lost the place where they used to connect.
Our hub for us, we could never replace,
now our wheel's slowed right down - lost its old pace.
So listen all you spokes, won't you learn from me?
Cherish those hubs they're so special you see.
For there are many spokes to be found in a wheel,
but just the one hub - now you know how I feel.
You can find out more about Richard Wilkins by clicking here