Inscrutable
There is something about mothers
That no genius can comprehend
It does not matter if we say we dislike them
Things somehow manage to change
We always seem to come right back to them
By some wizardry we are bound
Physically, spiritually and mentally
One minute we despise the
The other we try to please them
No matter how mad we get
We still manage to push aside
All that they put us through
However in some cases
It is cannot be overcome so easy
We wish them off
And say to hell with it
Yet still not long after
We all seem to crawl straight back
Kiss them goodnight
And whisper those three special words
That brightens every mother’s day
I love you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Madness in the Making
PoetryEmotions are never easy to deal with. Putting pen to paper is just one avenue. Join in the Emotional maze.
