How could I forget when she would read to us? We would snuggle beside her, listening attentively to every intonation and pause. Often, she would exaggerate the pause before turning the next page -- increasing our anticipation of what might happen next. She had wonderful voice inflection, an expressive (Italian - need I say more?) personality, and natural enthusiasm, making her a great reader.
So, sit back and enjoy a beautiful poem ---
THE READING MOTHER by Strickland Gillian
I had a Mother who read to me
Saga of pirates who scoured the sea,
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
"Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath.
I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.
I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness blent with his final breath.
I had a Mother who read me things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings ---
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be ---
I had a Mother who read to me.
Enjoy the day, and keep reading!