A mother's grin:
Is mostly misconstrued
Seldomly her smile
Depicts true bliss
Of how much age her child accrued.
Then she flashes back in time
As if she never lost a dime
While pruning her child's pine
Even when it hurt her spine.
The sacrifices she made
Stooping so low as their maid
Just to get them to fill their belly
And yet, we think it's her duty.
What sort of duty
Will combine neat and dirty
And still serve when sixty
With no wage or salary?
That's the mother's calling.
Of which not every woman hears
Some try due the love they fall in,
But most of them don't bear,
Except this woman sitting here.
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