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Mothers Day Poem

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The Better Prize

I see you’re tired when I get home.
You feel some days you’re all alone.
But what you’re doing is priceless, dear,
And one day you’ll look back–one year.
Far from now when these kids are grown,
You’ll remember the days you spent at home.
Wiping noses, washing dishes,
Having tea parties, getting kisses.
Playing ball and tying shoes,
Dressing dolls and kissing boo-boo’s,
Then you’ll look at me with tearful eyes,
and know you got the better prize.
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