She is a Welcome Home
A room full of people.
She is an egg neatly broken
A Roulade sweetly rolled.
She is a lost recipe

She is her mother
At her mothers knee.
She is the Deb with the frizzy hair.
She is first to cry
And first to laugh.
She is the woman from the Meals on Wheels

She is a wet dog in a blanket
A long walk by the waters edge.
She is a silver rosary
A Hail Queen of Heaven.
She is a missal of memorial cards
A future firmly rooted in the past
In Birth, in Life, in Death,
She is unafraid

She is the mother of two sons, and a husband
She is Mam, but never Mummy
She is busy when there is no need
Is tired too often
She is the strong stem
She is a Poppy in a window

Martin Swords

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poppy-season/