For My Mom
My mother is a maker
My mother makes ceramics
Old hands cracked with clay
Candles, mugs, ornaments
People want to pay for their beauty
But she gives them freely
Because she makes light and shares it
My mother makes people well
Day shift, night shift, call
She is the kind eyes
And maker of jokes
Who wakes the sick
From the sleep of anesthesia
My mother makes a difference
She is independent and strong
Funny and kind
Honest and giving
And she taught us to be these things too
My mother is a maker
And she makes me proud to be her daughter
One thought on "For My Mom"
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I bet you take after her, since you are a maker of poetry.
This is a sweet tribute.
I’m sure you make her proud as well!