There is a heap of tributes written, drawn, and sang to mothers,
As should be done, since there’s no being worthy here on Earth
To be high praised, like women who gave birth to our race.
This won’t be different. I won’t astray from many others,
Since, I was blessed and raised by gentle woman, with kind mirth.
She walked through hell but held me tight in warm embrace.
And I’m proud to have her lovely features – the voice, the mind, the tongue that jingles free,
However, more that anything I wish to have her wrinkles; inherit vibrant story of her spree.