I’m not perfect nor meant to be
I have hips that bear children and ******* to feed
Scars across my stomach that gave life to thee
A body that can easily sway
Loving hands that can nurture but also be free
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve
Through shadows on the wall in the hall
I hear you cry as you tiptoe towards me in the night
We just laid down and started to fall
I tend to your needs forgetting of my own
Its what a mother does even after the child is grown