Somewhere far away in the vast Earth…

In my room I sit, staring around

Looking at how many things my dad found

He brought them for me to help me forget

To not feel like the world itself is a threat

My name is Lydia, and my father is very wealthy

But myself I feel at this moment less healthy

Even as I stare out at all my possesion in my keep

For there is one thing in the world for which I have to weep…


In a farmhouse quite distant from Lydia…

The flowers sway in the slight wind

As I stare out happily not in the least dimmed

My name is Ellie, and my family is simple

Though a bit poor, certainly happy as a crystal


But at school when the others tease,

At my dirty dress and tights that are creased

I run to to the only one who could comfort me

Who could wipe away my tears, and answer my plea


For love, for hope, and happiness to stay

A heart to be proud of, and a way to say

“I have a person who of me is very fond,

I have someone special, with whom I share a bond…”



Tears come to me as the words repeat inside my head

I have no mother, so I have all this instead

Well, I don’t need it all, I think!

I need someone to hold me and comfort me as I blink


All these diamonds and silver and expensive fleece

Now they are all junk… nothing to me!

Because they cannot love, cannot share, cannot see

What one needs to live her life happily…



A girl may have nothing but her family

But to me, that is all I need to embrace changes readily

Love is a thing that overpowers all feeling of need

And my mother represents that love to me…


Both Lydia and Ellie, Lydia wishing and Ellie experiencing  

Mother to help and mother to hold

Mother is kind and mother is bold

Mother to go in gates of feelings and find

What lies behind the child’s fences and blinds


Mother, whose first priority is child

Mother, whose day is made when the little one smiles

Who spends hours cleaning behind the young one

Only to find a mess again when the young one has fun


Mother lovely, Mother here

To hold her loved ones close and dear

Mother who collects old paintings to keep

For later when the child is gone, Mother should not weep…

Authored by : Shree, an aspiring young author on Mother’s day in retrospection of all that mother’s do and mean to their children. To read more of her work, visit her blog –