A Mother

With her being starts creation
Of a little mind and soul,
As she takes the obligation
Of her new expanding role.

From then on she walks with worry,
Some defeat and some success;
Oft with patience, oft with hurry,
All her lifetime, more or less.

When the object of her mission
Grows too big to hold her hand,
She still asks in sweet petition
God to lead and understand.

For to her there is no finish
To the job life bids her start.
Love by years does not diminish
Or outgrow a mother’s heart.