Poem-Mother

MOTHER

They say children are God’s gift

But I say mothers are

Diamonds in coal,

Playing with children

Is their whole shift

Loving and feeding children

Is their goal,

But there are many orphans

Who lack such precious organs,

They look into the sky

Searching through the stars mile high

To why did their mothers die.

They ask the Lord why,

He asked their mothers

To come to the sky?

To this God replies:

My child, your soul is pure,

This implies

That you are out to lure,

Your mother was kind,

Let the whole story rewind.

Ya, you need my direct love,

But your mother came from left

She was like a dove

Then I planned theft,

Now, a good soul you are

The more I love you

The less content you are.

To be true,

Mothers are natural treasures

Who want other pleasures,

If you say you miss her

Don’t murmur,

Say it with a stride,

Because mothers gave us pride.