With voice like honey and skin like silk
She beats the eggs and pours the milk
Wrestles the dog and empties the trash
She takes time to cure her daughter's rash
Her blue eyes are weary and stressed from the day
With pastorly reverence, kneels down to pray
Like gust of great wind, collapses and sighs
Tries not to let salty clear tears fill her eyes
With efforts unnoticed, she lays down to rest
So thank all your mothers, they do their jobs best