I was born a poet not a charming man,
Whatever I do I believe in yes I can,
From journalism to mending the leaking can,
Thanks to my mum for not being a nun,
Her fantastic care did not make me a rogue,
Under harsh weather conglomerated of fog,
She made sure I was warm even under smog,
The physique I have is her encouragement to jog.
‘Nyar
Were’ is the nickname we gave to her,
Her dedication has made us reach far,
Now we’re even able to own a flashy car,
With her we’re no longer where we were.
The beloved mother of Vic the banker,
Very soon I know he will own a tanker,
And build himself a bungalow not a bunker,
That gives comfort even if the weather is danker.
Her first born daughter is Rachel,
The professional biochemist not Cael,
Cladding in a lab coat and carrying a file,
Unlike a machete and a sharpening file.
Having a mother is a great opportunity,
While losing her a woeful eventuality,
Even though one day it will be a reality,
Salute to mums for being great necessities.
By: Otieno Lawrence
©2016
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