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
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