Someone's mother

I've always wanted to post this, and I know it's probably because I have a guilty conscience. You see, years ago, when my granny was still alive, we used to go to the movies.
I got to the age where I began to be interested in girls. There was a girl, Mei Mei, whom I really liked, and one day when granny and I were at the Lido cinema, she happened to be there too.
I don't know why, but somehow when children TURN into teenagers, they associate being with older people as "UNCOOL".
So, as I walked with my granny, hand in hand, I saw her when we turned the corner. I immediately let go and moved to a distance.
My granny didn't understand, and I never should've done it in the first place.
Mahma, I'm sorry. I know you're in Heaven now, but I know better now.
Here's to the senior folks. We MUST treat them better.

Somebody's mother

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the winter's day.
The street was wet with the recent snow,
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.

She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by,
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of "school let out,
"Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.

Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way,
Nor offered a helping hand to her,
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir,

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest laddie of all the group;

He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you across if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,

He guided her trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.

"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow;
"And I hope some fellow with lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,

If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away."
And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said

Was, "God be kind to the noble boy
Who is somebody's son and pride and joy."