Mother's Day

(Mothers They Are, Not Just On Mother's Day) Mothers are souls, gentle as some birth mothers Oh, I've seen their tender hearts bleed Their minds racing to find whatever the need Heaven knows how far their hands with kindness stretch Each morsel becomes five loaves, and two fishes Rest assured their fountain remains reservoir Satisfying any who thirst; you'd place garlands at their door Don't you know, they sprinkle love seeds galore, where'er they go And with forbearing; they watch each smile like flowers bloom Year in, year out. These Moms are rooted on forgiving grounds. * (Written for: Tammy Reams' Acrostic poetry contest, April 13th deadline) -- Mother's Day --