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MOTHER

Poem by ©Rose Fyleman

When Mother comes each morning
She wears her oldest things,
She doesn't make a rustle,
She hasn't any rings;
She says, "Good-morning, chickies,
It's such a lovely day,
Let's go into the garden
And have a game of play!"

When mother comes at tea-time
her dress goes shoo-shoo-shoo,
She always has a little bag,
Sometimes a sunshade too;
She says "I'm so hoping
There's something left for me;
Please hurry up dear Nanna
I am dying for my tea

When mother comes at
Bed-time
Her evening dress she wears,
She tells us each a story
When we have said our prayers;
And if there is a party
She looks so shiny bright
Its like a lovely fairy
Dropped in to say good night.

MOTHER

, by ©Rose Fyleman

lovely poem, thanks for the sharing.