What is a Mom but You?

If she were a friend, I'd find her dress too faddish,
always pinks and jewels and plenty of permanent makeup,
but she calls regularly and plays turnabout is fair play.

If she were a father, she'd work too many hours,
punish us so that we would mind and cringe beneath the terror,
but she only nags about what will make us better.

If she were single, she'd party every night,
dancing up a storm, laughing and flirting and risqué
but she is at our side, whenever we are sick or need her.

If she were an astronaut, she'd care about the source of water,
want cushioned sleepwear and plenty of tunes,
but takes flight only to the supermarket.

If she were the President, Obama would have fewer friends,
because she knows how to organize, plan parties and manage money,
but finds power far more tedious than hugs,

because after all is said and done, good friend or enemy,
astronaut or buyer, she is merely the most important Mother
we are likely to find in our lives and needn't run for office.