Dear Mother

Our mothers have strived hard, boring us for nine months. Their tired eyes awaken amidst unpredictable nights that when our feeble tears would arise. While days would flow whilst in her mind a flow of thoughts of hope and worry. What would be the best for my child? How would I make them happy. How may I make them soldiers that would not look at the materialistic gain of this world but that they would be kind and loving to others? Hoping that their hearts would be filled with faith of steel, that when the last breath that they will take would be an ease of departure. Hopes for success within her child's life and the afterlife. For death is a certainty, thought the mother. Like as if a final chapter had already been written. And of what contents lie within the beginning and in between. 'Tis a thing I would like my child to understand. While she cook the meals to feed and nurture. And as she works to earn for the meals. Her time for her child would never be lost in intervals. My child, my child. Whispered in her mind. A Grace from a tangible source of Nurture. A Nurture greater than mine. Their complaints and worries will give you a headache oh child. But a headache would pass. While the love of thy mother stays eternal. So let thy mother's know, that they are appreciated. Don't wait for mother's day. For everyday - is - your mother's day. A poem for her; Dear Mother.

Dear mother, Thy child may say hurtful things that might pierce thy beauteous heart, ‘Tis indeed a wrong doing, But let not their words linger & pull thee apart, For thee are but a human being, A being that has her fall & rising, But indeed a strong mother you are in silence thriving, So dear mother do not be sad, For thee are indeed a light of times good & bad.