Shall I Compare My Mother To The Sun? Poem by India Gilmere

Shall I compare my mother to the sun?
shining in the dark so brightly,
slowly setting when you are done.
All through the night you wait and hold tightly.

Controlling the temperatures of those around you,
Making some blossom or weep,
If you are down others are blue,
right until up you start to creep.

You are as cheerful as a yellow bird,
chirping and chirping for others.
As soon as you are heard,
People quietly wake up one another.

Without you everyone would sob,
because there was no one to do the job.