Mothers

[irishman]

Mother

She prepares a feast
From flour and yeast,
And this, and that, and the other;

She loves to love;
She lives to give,
There is no one quite like my mother.

When tears abound,
And fear’s surround,
And trouble from sister or brother;

She is always there
To clear the air,
She stands in the place called “mother”.

She makes peace
Among the least,
And reconciles one with another;

None can replace
Her wonderful grace,
No, there is no one like my mother.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MOM’S
(None of us would be here without mothers!)