Sonnet 79

On this special day, as your children play,
At times near and dear at your gentle feet
And yet, at other times, far, far away;
Cherished thoughts will wander there, and so seek
That comforting reassurance that lives
In the heart of every mother, heaven born,
And, to that breast of pure love ever gives,
Solace, in the knowledge that, safe and warm,
Labors of love and sacrifice live on,
In precious unique forms that thrive and grow
Still more dear; even after you are gone-
Replete with sweetest memories they shall know;
A mother’s love is love beyond compare;
The sweetest flower to grow in heavens’ air.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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