Her Children's Pride
The flower cherished her precious seeds;
kept them warm, hidden from weeds.
She let them fall on fertile ground;
blind to the fate for which they were bound.
But nonetheless, she let them go;
with bated breath she watched them grow.
Her petals now are a softer hew,
and a chill comes with the morning dew.
Her children now, bloom at her side;
she is the glory of her children's pride.
(For Mamma)
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Poem a Week Challenge
PoetryHello to the Poets Pub Poem-a-Week Challenge. We are challenging all of our members to start their own collection and write a poem each week. Here we will be featuring all of the authors who are participating as well as some of their poems. We wi...
