By Bill Lowe, Sterling
You're mother to our children and truly my best friend;
my mate from the beginning and companion 'til the end.
You're the glue to the family on whom we each depend.
You're mother to our children, admired, loved, adored.
When life is in disorder, your vitality gets it restored.
And it is done with no recognition, medals or reward.
You're mother to our children, a wife who's underpaid.
Making our house a home has been your chief crusade
and in every nook 'n cranny your talents are displayed.
You're mother to our children, a precious gem indeed.
When we call for assistance, you meet our every need.
If we are ever in a battle, your attack is at full speed.
You're mother to our children; a precious wife you are.
In the Gneiss Book of Records, you're a shooting star.
You surpass all the other mothers whether near or far.
You're mother to our children; my love, my soul mate.
Who'd I be today if you hadn't accepted our first date?
I'm glad we didn't postpone marriage, quit, or hesitate.
You're mother to our children. Was your life a cabaret?
I hope that this "job" has been a blessing along the way
and because you're so deserving, Happy Mother's Day.
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