My mother loves her animals and me;
And, of course, my sister's* in there, too.
She shows her love quite unmistakably:
She pets us all, no matter where or who.
I haven't sprouted yet a bushy tail,
Nor has my sister* grown a toothy snout;
But I sometimes feel a dog in such detail
I pant and bark and scurry all about.
But I am glad my mother has a love
That cuts across the paths of innocence.
I know that her sweet feelings long will move
Me to appreciate her scents!
Your mother is always with you...
She's the whisper of the leaves
as you walk down the street.
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