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 --
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