We all know that we have our endeavors
And yet we always say what is hors d'oeuvres...
As my mother, you feed me.
As my mother, you help me...
Time is coming...
days go by and by...
Looking through shattered glass
At pieces of whom I used to be...
Heads on desks
Or up and working...
"Trick or treat!!"
Little kids knock...
Another year has come and gone
This day holds special meaning...
On this special day
We salute you dear mother...
Today is the day I dread the most
I become nonexistent...
As I look far back in time
those wonderful memories of you in mind...
A man of sorrows, a poem
A man of sorrows was he, much grief, he bore for...
Motherhood is the most difficult job in the world...