Mother
Far better than minerals gotten
Out of the depths of the earth,
Or jewels of regal splendor
And ostentatious birth
Is the singular role of a mother;
Indeed, there isn't another
Of distinctly nobler worth.
She scatters the seeds of gladness
With those of pain and sorrow,
In the fields of her fertile existence
For tender shoots of tomorrow;
There's nothing she wouldn't dare
To justify her care;
She'd even beg or borrow.
She gathers a bounteous harvest --
An outcome of courage and skill,
Through seasons of trials and errors
That never could smother her will;
A beacon in the overall plan,
She illumines the pathway of man --
A duty she's glad to fulfill.
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