A (Fun) Ode To A Mother Poem by anne seite

You have wrinkles on your brow, mother dear,
I've bought cream to help plump them out.
Spontaneity's just fine in its place,
but do you always have to shout.

Your accent's cute, your grammar erratic,
but you are loving and giving;
you've always been there to give us a hand,
to help us earn a good living.

Always active, and rarely at rest,
occupied by your various tasks.
Looking around, 'What's she done all day? '
is the question that everyone asks.

Sit down, mother dear, be calm.Take time out,
and smell the perfume of the rose.
But I know you'll go chattering on,
and you'll out-live us all, I suppose.