Warning: Watch the following video at your own risk. It’s a bit graphic, but I think it sets the mood for mothers day.
Our mother is the gentlest and
Most delicate of all.
She knows more of Nirvana
Than sprites can recall.
She’s not only graceful
But passionately young,
Playful as a kid, yet wise
As one who has lived long.
Her love is like the spate of life,
A bubbling, overflowing, joyous spring
That flows through all like liquid light
And makes the mountains sing.
Makes the meadows transmute to flower
And trees to tastiest fruit.
She is at once the plain and bower
In which our hearts take root.
She is at once the sea and shore,
Our futurity and our past.
With her, we launch our venturous fleet
Yet preserve the things that last.
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Hi Jeffy,
Thinking of you today. Be well.
Funny that, my mother never listened to Kurt Cobain …
Joking, of course. Well written, JD.
Susan, you are a sweetheart. Thank you for commenting. I’ve been slacking a lot lately, but I think that my holiday has helped me to recapture my zeal for writing.
Dario, I thought Nirvana was a bit much, but I didn’t want to go with a bland name, like paradise.