Of babies and totsOf children and teens,Of twenty-somethingsRefusing to leave

Of adult childrenWith kids of their own,Now muttering to grandchildren,“Wow haven’t you grown!”

To mothers of angels,Too sweet for this world,And mothers of dreams,That will never unfold.

To mothers waiting,Stroking their bumps,And laughing with partnersAs it dances and jumps.

To mothers of newborns, During a feed,Blinking with tirednessAs they log on to read

To mothers of toddlers,Taking a break,Coffee unfinished,When little one wakes.

To mothers exhaustedFrom picking up toys,Shouting “I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK!”Over the noise.

To mothers that work,Whatever they do,Who rush home for cuddles,That smell of baby shampoo.

To mothers of teens,Biting their tongue,When “Don’t be home late!”is met with “LET ME BE YOUNG!” 

To mothers of students,Just flown the nest,Who are missing the noise,But enjoying the rest.

Today is our dayAnd a chance for a break,But tomorrow we’ll be back,To our shift when they wake.

And we’ll take those cold coffees,We’ll accept all the noise,We’ll rush home from work,And we’ll pick up the toys.

We’ll blink through tiredness,We’ll keep biting our tongue,And we’ll remember forever,A time they were young.

By Sam Jinks