What little girl is this
Who lifts her veil to kiss
The handsome groom?
Why do we gather here
And drop a silver tear
In this candlelit room?
Is it that we must know
Our little girl will go?
Her blossoming
Will not be ours alone
The golden sun that shone
And made us sing
Joins us to bless
Her happiness,
Like a warm and gentle flame,
She’s no less ours now, we know,
Yet time that life bestows
In days ahead will never be the same.
Ideals Mothers Day 2004