Happiness, like most things, comes from mothers.An amniotic universe is rare.Paradises aren’t found with others,Perhaps because we must breathe our own air.Yet even after paradise, we findMothers are a bath of warm affection.Only mothers’ love is truly blindTo guarantee all errant souls protection.However we find love, it can be onlyEvanescences of memoriesRetained from when we never could be lonely,‘Ere we left our mother’s outsized knees.So good it is to have that happinessDesigned to grace each subsequent caress,All future love and joy to underlie,Yearning backwards towards a mother’s sigh.

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