My Mother

Oh dear mother, sweet and kind, 

With eyes that could always find

My socks, my shoes, my missing hat,

My homework, and my baseball bat. 

She’s got a sixth sense for every mess, 

A radar for when I’m in distress.

yet, I swear she must have eyes, 

In the back of her head, a huge surprise!

She’s a chef, a nurse, a referee,

An all-knowing guru of my misery. 

She can fix a boo-boo with a kiss,

And whip up dinner with such bliss.

Her purse, a portal to another realm,

Full of treasures that overwhelm.

 A candy, a tissue, a sewing kit,

An endless pit that’s truly lit!

Laundry queen, unmatched by far,

She’s got tricks that make her a star. 

Sorting colors, whites, and socks, 

She’s the real magician, untying knots.

She’s a night owl, she’s an early bird, 

Her superpowers are quite absurd. 

Running on coffee, fueled by love, 

She’s a superhero sent from above.

Oh mother, dearest, we salute,

Your endless skills, your keen pursuit. 

But seriously, how do you do it all?

Are you secretly ten feet tall?