You raise them up,
then they run away
and shout at you from a distance.

Forgetting how you held them
close and marveled at the fact
you were so blessed.

Giving them your all
and now browbeating is an art
aimed at you.

What happened to all
the good my child,
was I only dreaming- no not I.

Forever you are captured
in my heart despite your false
and hurtful wailing.

The stones you throw
may sting and bruise,
but cannot change what is within.

A true mother loves
despite the storms that pelt away
at time.

Forever you'll be
in my heart-forever you'll
be mine.