My mom is like a sunflower, always pointed at the sun.
Taking in its warmth, receiving life.
What she gives is beauty to the beholder, she is beautiful and delicate but no where near fragile for the thorns she grew protects her from all sorts of weeds and hands wanting to pick at her.
She is strong and when something picks at her petals she smiles, and grows more.
And she doesn’t fail to give me shade under her bright yellow petals
She never forgets to make me smile on the bad days and she always reminds me of the beautiful things in life, even when she herself can’t see them sometimes.
She is beautiful and strong.
She is just like a sunflower.