Hippopotamoms'

Her love is a hot pot of oats Radiating all the warm colour codes Fuel for their endless conquests Homing for her love requests She lends them her wiser ear Learns them her fine wear She imparts her keener senses To their lesser, commonsense(s) Go my princess, go and find your toad Leave breadcrumbs on your chosen road My spirit will follow your byways My hope will guide you always A mother to all of the big five In the deep end, ever ready to dive She carried all five on her back Barefoot, blistered hard as a rock