The Mother
- - - - - - - - - -
Holy holier-divinely;
Things are with her
As perceived and adorned gracefully
Lots of love and lots of pity
Along she is carrying
Of quintessence motherly
In her exemplified
The feminine persona so lovely
More and more and not less
I see and God confess
She is holier than me
Sent to care your needs
Alleviate your sufferings
Brighten your dreams
Like an Angel in the morning
Seen among lovely flowers
Caressing and them preparing
To see a beautiful day dawning
And the day passed off peacefully
Unto noon and evening
And seen her bidding children
Good-night with words so soothing
Oh mother! what you are
Made of which stuff so rare
For me and for all
You weep your tears
A drop falls on him
Another on her
A dozen on them
A few goes out
To form an ocean
Of love for your children
Unto I would love
Diving deep to die even
For not in vain will go
Your love and affection
My dear my mother
You are, I swear
As good as heaven......

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, February 22, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, February 24, 2014

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