MATERNITY
Akin souls of
priority,
Gets quoted the sacred authority,
It is the popular reality,
Yes, the holy 'mother'.
Warm sighs of care,
She beholds and does swear,
In true depth of love,
She upholds her very bow,
Of lively motherhood.
Granted endowments should Beg of her bliss,
While she lends often a kiss.
Wily thoughts of harm,
Go accross a farm,
Never to return,
While being with mother.
Blossoms of spring arise,
In her smiles so wise,
And she chuckles in turn,
To her darlings, not bother.
Quite often she brings in,
Familiar faces of love,
And bestows minute spin,
Of treasurable love !
Indeed upon a day,
She has to get it back,
The vast sreams of love,
She gave away on her way,
In millions and billions of sacks,
Filled with fabulous sweet love.
And when other than on the day,
So special on the bay,
Of love, care and no dismay,
Only lots and loads of love-pay.
