For My Mother Now as the leaves turn brittle and dry Now as the birds raise their silver wings to the sky, autumn days grow weary and cold But there's a warmth and a stillness as your story is told dear Mother this is for you. Now when the tears fall silent and long As great as my wish to accept, to be strong, autumn days grow weary and cold But there's a warmth and a stillness as your story unfolds dear Mother this is for you, for you.
