My beautiful star . . . the gift of a daughter must
surpass any and all gifts. She comes to you, quite
unexpectedly, over and over, reappearing just when
you need her, even when you didn't realize that was
the case. You carried her in your hear and soul for
moons a many, and then suddenly, she's in your arms
never to be torn away. When I find myself in times
of trouble, 'tis my very own Mother Mary I turn to.
She comforts me, listens to me, soothes me and
fails to judge me. She is a gift of the gods; make
no mistake. I pray I be one day deserving of her . . .
my soul is weary
pray send me mother mary
in my time of trouble
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