Women Poem by Ibekwe chisom

The mother of human race, a beautiful evil, cruel and kind, image of beauty, instrument of procreation.

A misery of man's history, from of old, when bushes were horses, and trees speaketh and walketh.

Women who sat and watched my infant bed, taught my infant lips to pray, when sleepind on cradle bed, and tears of affection shed, When pain and sickness made me cry, who gazed upon my heavy eye and wept for fear i should die.

A woman who taught me to love God's holy books and day, and walk on wisdom's pleasant way.

And can i ever cease to be affectionate and kind to thee? , who was so very kind to me.

Ah no! , the thought i cannot bear, and i God please my life to spare, i hope i shall reward thy care.