Mary, you are the bird inside the hand
Of St. Francis, in the garden where he stands
Handwriting, a birth mark and a quilt
Mother to my mother and to me and to me
Mary, you are the mason jars in spring
The kitchen with the view across a hill
First memory is a Bible in song
The organ while my family sings along
We sing along
And on the calendar when I leave
A little note for you, so you see
When I'm gone, I never go too far
Your heart is my heart
Your blood, my blood
When I'm gone, I never get too far
Mother to my mother and to me

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS