A poem praising maternal love: maternal love
( 1)
There is always a yearning.
Ups and downs on the waves of time
Always in the mood.
Wandering in the clear lake.
There is always a smile.
Emerge in memory.
There is always a feeling of moving.
Surging in a late-night dream
(2)
Singing is a natural pleasure for me.
Mother is a godsend to me.
A poem dedicated to mother
Time and time again touched my heartfelt love.
It's time for me to sing.
I want to sing on my mother's shoulder like a man.
Crisp children's voice
Sing a smile on mother's face.
I can't tell you the joy in my heart.
I want to sing with my mother.
Sing the truth gently and enthusiastically
Singing made my mother tired all over.
Spiritual indescribable comfort
I want to sing on my mother's arm.
Affectionate tone
The singing moved my mother sincerely.
I can't erase my joy.
I want to sing mom.
Stick to it from small to large.
I sing for my mother.
Don't stop until you die.
A poem praising maternal love: praising mother.
Mother is a big ship.
Take me to the seaside.
Pursuing the mystery of life
Explore the magic of the world
Mother is a high mountain.
All inclusive
Hey, I grow up.
Strengthen my body and mind
Mother is a touching song.
Show me around.
With her beautiful tune
Singing the history of the motherland
Mother is a spring breeze person.
Blow away everything in the world
Yingying's footsteps
Brought great vitality.
Mother is a spring rain.
Moisturize everything on the earth.
Ah! mother
I love you and you will always be my favorite.
A poem praising maternal love: Mother in the Storm
Life is like walking on a stormy road.
Mother is at the front.
Send some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain to their mothers.
Mom pushed it to me again.
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mother outside the umbrella,
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
A poem praising maternal love: Praise Mother.
-This document is for all mothers in the world, rich or poor.
Mom, can you use the hands of dead tree skin?
Brush off the frost that has turned gray on your temples? I know
The bow of the red ribbon bleached the black hair in my memory.
Long time no see. Mother, as if nothing had happened.
Or wriggle a loose tooth gently?
It's neither too tight nor too slow. Laugh in tears
Sing some songs that are still fresh in my childhood.
Memory is the snake of missing. Draw a word
Winding forward, my bitter ink in this life.
Mom, are you still willing to use this cracked tongue core?
Lick my arrogant poison. I am in front of you.
Always a child who doesn't grow up.
So there is a vague topic called maternal love.
It is undoubtedly the stupidest injury to a wanderer.
Mom, you are old. You used to be as famous as chrysanthemums.
The edge of the white porcelain bottle has your residual medicine fragrance.
Plain silk was very popular in the old days. manage
Brushed the heart of love, but still
I can't hide your crazy concern.
The autumn wind has started. Even in the shadow of loneliness, mom
Don't catch cold either. No matter when and where
Sunset depends on a crutch called a child.
And you, on fertile soil.
Seeds covered with vegetation are sprouting and growing.
And I, at the moment. I just want to hear your call.
My real name. In a trance, mother
I seem to be back in the yard, next to the well where I drew water as a child.
A poem praising maternal love: maternal love is deep.
As a child,
Mother's cattail leaf fan,
Mosquito repellent, cooling for me;
When I grow up,
Heavy love was put into my bag again;
Married,
Motherly love is like a leaf turning to the earth. ...
Hot yellow earth,
Full of the reluctance of the elderly,
The bitterness of life,
Cast your golden character,
Your tenacity and persistence,
The strongest sound that shocks life. ...
You never give up,
Always be a child's indicator light;
The blood is flowing so fast,
The dangers you are destined to experience in your life,
Your straight spine is admirable!
Between gains and losses,
You chose to pay. ...
In a small farmhouse,
But it has the virtual cold and warm of the world;
Tonight the moon is like a hook,
My old mother,
Is it still there?
expect
The footsteps of children coming home. ...
A poem praising maternal love: "Mother, Hard Work"
The human body can leave,
People don't leave,
Just as we will never forget our ancestors,
Forget about mother.
Mother is the quilt on her body,
She will feel cold without it.
Mother is the salt in the dish,
Life is tasteless without her.
Mother must have her pain.
The pain of wandering,
It often hangs on her face,
Watching the children's laughter intertwined.