Mummy Love

I rise each day before the sun,

To pack lunch, the day’s begun.

Shoes to tie, the tears to dry,

A hundred tasks before I sigh.

Their needs, a list that never ends,

scraped up knees, the fights with friends.

I give my all, my every part,

their laughters live inside my heart.

But sometimes in the quiet night,

when toys are tucked and lamps give light,

I feel the weight I chose to bear,

the cost of love, the wear of care.

Then I hear a whisper in the low,

A voice I buried long ago,

"You matter too," it softly pleads,

"Your soul has wants, your heart has needs."

So now I claim small sacred space,

My breath, my journal, a slower pace.

Not selfish, but wise, I now repair,

I mother best when I remember to self-care.

For how can I pour from a cup run dry?

Or teach them joy if I don't try?

To show them love, I start with me,

that's how I teach them how to be.

So now I rest, I dream, and sometimes cry,

I dance beneath a kinder sky.

And when they watch, I hope they see,

that caring starts with caring for me.