My Model Mother
Some would say that a model
Has not held a baby's bottle
Or mothered several tykes,
Giving up her own likes.
A model usually lives to win
Fame for herself among men.
But my mother is a different kind
Of model, a jewel, a rare find.
In this age of comfort and ease
Most seek themselves to please,
Forgetting that parents have a role,
A model in the home their goal.
My mother is my model that with time
Only grows more beautiful; I find
Experience with gentleness,
Sacrifice in quietness.
Share This Poem