As the egg falls into the pan,
With a spluttering and a sizzling,
My mind drifts to all mothers,
Who have given all they can,
Running, chiding, guiding, muttering,
Remembering to give us food,
Clothes, shelter, basic stuff,
Plus baggage wrapped in love,
For tomorrow, today and yesterday.
The tears of joy and anguish shed,
In raising children up
If collected will fill a sea,
Of stories varied,
Like stony pebbles,
Scattered on the shores of eternity.
