Each season of a woman' life,
contains some joy and pain.
Her life is always changing,
nothing ever stays the same.
He life is like a blossom,
blooming as she grows
She starts out as a tiny rosebud,
and turns into a rose.
Each season holds a special place,
within her loving heart,
It starts with giving birth to one,
with whom she'll never part.
It seems to be a natural thing,
to nurture, love and care.
Her child will grow in love and grace,
knowing Mother's there.
Her wisdom and knowledge will grow over time,
the blossom will change through the years
her children are now her small little buds,
she'll be there to calm their fears.
Her child will grow, and so shall she,
life seems to move so fast,
but as the world moves along,
It's the memories that will last.
Through the years a woman's role,
will change just as the seasons.
Suddenly her needs are new,
and there's never rhyme or reason.
But deep within her being.
She knows she's passed the test.
She's lived, she's loved, she's experienced all.
And earned her minutes rest.