By Lawrence Acha
She is a virtuous woman, A rare gem, A priceless jewel, a perfect definition of the Proverbs 31 woman,
An upright woman, a woman of substance, the evidence of beauty without makeup.
She’s your mother, my mother, our mothers in their womb they carried us for nine months, they practically gave life to these rebirth souls,
She’s your mother, my mother, our mothers the comfort of her hands is more desirable than mattress, her back is like a sofa, a place we could climb on, lay our heads, close our eyes, and drift off without fears,
She’s your mother, my mother, our mothers are our strength, our motivation, our inspiration, the thought of making them proud just to see them smile can make us go a thousand miles.
She’s your mother, my mother, our mothers, oh! the sacrifices they make just so we could have a better life… I bet we could count the number of times they braid their hair in a year,
She’s your mother, my mother, to our mothers who cover themselves with nylons and hawk under heavy rainfall, to our mothers who trade In places without shades under the scorching sun, to our mothers who do menial jobs not to save up money to buy fancy dresses or expensive pieces of jewelry but just so their kids could feed,
She’s your mother, my mother, to our mothers even though sometimes we are strong-headed and act like we don’t care, we see your selfless sacrifices and pray someday we’ll be worth the price,
She’s your mother, my mother, to our mothers you are the mortal image of an angel here on earth and you deserve every accolade that comes your way, a billion dollars bill will never be enough to repay our debts, words alone can’t describe how grateful we really are but we hope you see it in our eyes.
She’s your mother, my mother
…to our mothers
