When I Was Born…

I was born on a humid day in June,

my new eyes danced a hopeful tune,

the wordless song, of a baby’s croon.

At first glance, how my mother swooned,

filled with the joy of life’s loving spoon.

The world seemed to pause at my arrival,

so dependent on others for my survival.

With eyes wide open, I looked all around,

at this new place, I had somehow found.

This woman who stared, with eyes that adored,

I felt all the love her heart eagerly poured.

How I wished I could tell her, that I loved her too,

with the innocent sound of my infant ‘coo’.

She seemed unsure about what to do,

but her loving expression said, “how I love you”.

How happy was I, in my world anew!

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

 

***This poem was inspired by a ‘prompt’ I received in a class I’m taking on Saturday mornings. We were asked to describe the day we were born through our own eyes. This is what I came up with….hope you enjoy it!

Every day is Mother’s Day

 

 

A designated day to commemorate

all the wonderful mothers.

A nice thought but these women

are mothers every day of the week.

Not just for one day

that has been decided on

as “the” day.

Mothers across the world

are holding things down

taking care of their families.

Some in school and holding down a 9-5

A friend, a daughter and so much more.

Mothers get up and do their duty

consistently and without a second thought.

Countless moments of frustration

and despair, as theirs is a huge undertaking.

And not everyone is a great mother.

But at the end of the day

they do the best they can

with what they have.

After all, that’s what a mother is…

one who makes things happen

no matter what the odds are.

A thankless job, motherhood can sometimes be

But a huge “thank you” is indeed in order.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

 

 

My Mother ~ My Friend

My mother is my friend through the thick and through the thin,

she will be in my corner and by my side until the very end.

I confide in her my secret thoughts, for she has my deepest trust,

at times I hesitate to share, but eventually I know that I must.

She always gives an honest opinion, from her point of view,

while trying not to come right out and say what I should do.

My mother is my very best friend, from God above she’s a gift,

just knowing I have her in my life gives my heart a remarkable lift.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall