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A Mother Is ...

A mother is a messenger, who bears a precious gift,
And even in the wrapping tissue we find some gems to sift.
The more we learn of life, the more we stop and stare,
For how can such a wondrous thing be conjured out of air?

A mother is a vessel, a type of cooking pot,
Whose love provides the warmth so that it doesn’t get too hot.
And she provides the nutrients, our flesh is of her soil,
And when the child is born it’s she who does the toil,

Of cleaning it, and feeding it, and teaching it to smile,
A small reward to mother for her efforts all the while.
A mother is a garden spot, where God instills a spark,
A holy flame to kindle for the world’s encroaching dark.

For every child’s a candle, sent to fill the world with light,
And mother is the shielded hand that saves it for the night.
A mother does the work of God in bringing forth a child,
And Godly patience helps her to prevent its running wild.

We recognize her efforts with some flowers and a card,
Oblivious to the challenges she faced, and it was hard,
To make a sterling citizen from the plans placed in her head,
She had to compromise a bit, ‘cause she got us instead.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . May 8, 2004