From: ssamgree@NObigSPAMpond.net.au   
      
   The love of a mother is to care. To teach right from wrong. To know. To be a   
   mother.   
      
   I, like everyone can dream. For my mother knows best. As flowers in a field,   
   bending to the rain or wind. As children playing in the playgrounds of the   
   future. I could dream of better times. Feeling of what deep in the depths of   
   all of us. The flower grows. If only I could sing like my mother. Facing   
   faces in the crowds of those in forgotten crossroads. Here, as the thoughts   
   fly pass, open pages of lost thoughts. Lost quietly. In the dreams of those,   
   who would dream with rose coloured glasses by the sights of the harbour. As   
   lights come in and out, playing into view. I could catch the last train if   
   its was mine to catch.  As the bells cry out, Easter its Easter. A time. In   
   reflection. One sugar, a few drops milk in my coffee if you please. I will   
   pay at the door.   
      
   Another day,   
      
   another dollar,   
      
   older, no wiser,   
      
   and still the bills do rise.   
      
      
      
   Kind regards,   
      
   Keep on keeping,   
      
   In music and song,   
      
   In words and thoughts,   
      
      
      
   Sam www.MrMusicman.com   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)