To see the World in a Cheerio
And Heaven in a sticky hand
To hold tomorrow in your arms
As you brush away the sand.
Your hair goes gray
Time wrinkles your skin
A small price to pay
For their laughter and grins.
Oh Dishes! Laundry! My eternal foes!But tiny fingers and tiny toes
Brush my cheek and tickle my nose
A fair recompense for the messes and woes.
On muddy feet, behind a smile
Traveling every treacherous mile,
My heart now walks about the earth
A strange effect of childbirth.
On the altar you place your blood, sweat, and tears
On the altar you place your blood, sweat, and tears
A fresh tribute is demanded year after year,
But still you give and give some more.
To those tiny gods that you adore.
The paradox of Motherhood is this
It will leave you bleary-eyed and sore,
It will take every ounce of your heart and wits
But somehow give you so much more.
But still you give and give some more.
To those tiny gods that you adore.
The paradox of Motherhood is this
It will leave you bleary-eyed and sore,
It will take every ounce of your heart and wits
But somehow give you so much more.
*apologies to William Blake
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