The Last of a Dying breed

This is a pome, for all the Mothers doing their best to raise a family.

I ask when you read this poem you be reminded of just who you are & where you come from..

Mama raised the last of a dying breed.

One who hail from high esteem, she knows how to read get outside plow the hoe the one thatgrows the green.

Mama rised the last of a dying breed.

A lady to be there ant no excuse for a messy house. Talking shit, triflin, now that's the hoe that don't cook or clean.

Mama Raised the last of a dying breed.

One that keeps her man feed & satisfied, so he's not fondling other thighs.

Let your wonder & poise be his high.

Hula-hoop into over drive. ( women moving hips in a circle motion)

Mama Raised the last of a dying breed.

The one that knows the ture essence of a man, to know that he could never pull the wool over her eyes.

Allows a man to be a man never quick to over step, except if things spiral into Tina & Ike mess.

OH, how I wish he would. ( women's eyes closed shaking hand toward sky )

Mama Raised the last of a dying breed.

The women that has hot meals on the table her children are cute, smell good with faces shining.

The pillar of the family. The apple of the devoted eye.

To say you've accomplished more than just a Instagram gallery.

How about a women that brings somthing to the table not glutton in little girl fables.

So yes when addressed I say proudly, Yes I cook ,Yes I clean. I'll even rubb a hard working Brotha's feet .

The rest of yall can toss your royalty .I choose to keep my crown ,because a Queen deserves a King.

Say it with me Mama Raised the last of a dying breen!

( Women laughing , clinking glasses )

Thank you for allowing me to use this platfrom to share my voice.