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The Art Of Being A Mother
A mother's love is unexplainable.
The level of yours, I hope, attainable.
I strive to be,
In all ways, like thee.
To borrow from Browning,
Though she may be frowning,
'How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.'
I love your poet's heart, your love of art,
Your love of all things beautiful.
Carrying on the tradition,
As your daughter, I will be dutiful.
From home-made Raggedy Anns on our beds,
To matching mirrors painted with tole,
Our home was beautifully filled
From our mother's artful soul.
From Windbergh to Remington, ...