How does she do it? I pause to wonder.
A monumental task to be a mother.
Prizes should be given,
Please hand out the awards,
Yet quietly she does it without even a word.
My mother’s quite saintly. Quite beautiful too.
Others must see it. She lights up the room.
That in my heart she’s heroic, or that
Her smile is heaven,
Either way I couldn’t want more,
Rather, I would like to run and shout out galore
‘Scuse me world, but look, here is my mother.
Do you know how wonderful she is? Do you really?
All day, everyday, she cares for us silly.
Yet, for all she’s done, I can’t even express it enough,
Mother, I find you amazing, astounding, without equal.
Am I allowed wanting to hug you, just so we can cuddle?
Mama, you’re bold and brave and kind and gentle.
Am I really so lucky having for a mom such a soul?!
I love you, I love you, oh how I love you, so I ask:
Live long, Mom. Keep doing what you’re doing.
Only, enjoy life and always keep laughing.
Value your trials, you hopes, and you dreams.
Even I know that you can do hard things.
You taught me so much, and I shared just a part
Of the things I thought mattered most, so with this, let me start:
Undoubtedly, mom, you are more than I could’ve ever asked for!
(Really late in posting this. It’s a poem I wrote for my mom on Mother’s Day. Thought I would share it with you guys.)
(P.S. find the note hidden in the poem. It’s a pretty simple one, but I still think it’s pretty cool.)