Mothers are the gardeners
Of wind-blown wild flowers.
They water them with happy tears,
Happy with them many years,
Even as the hours
Ring with sweet, sad melodies
Sighing through their bowers.
Happiness, like most things, comes from mothers.
An amniotic universe is rare.
Paradises aren't found with others,
Perhaps because we must breathe our own air.
My Mother
She is my good friend,
She is my great protector,
She is my wonderful sunshine
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