CR: Cross Cards
(An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.)
She is the cradle of life,
the bastion of our hopes.
She overcomes her strife
and shows us how to cope.
She is the first teacher,
our main life’s mentor.
All we have is indebted to her
her lessons put her front and center.
She is there when we walk,
and when we start to run.
She knows when we first talk
and remembers all our fun.
She is the first friend,
our first confidante.
She is the first to attend
and the voice of a motivating rant.
Without her warm embrace,
life would be cold and wantless.
The testament of our joyous successes
is owed to mothers’ sacrifices.
They are the shoulders we lean on
more powerful and patient then all
for they value brains, rather than brawn
and pick us up whenever we fall.
This is her day, the day of the mother,
when all is stopped to be thankful to her.
This the day for cards, gifts and pamper
to ensure her day is that much brighter.
For nothing could replace her loving care
that made sure we were loved and nurtured.
Thank you, mothers, for all of your care,
and for being you; it has always mattered.