My Mother's love is nothing like the norm;
Niflhemia is far more caring than her hand's touch;
If summer be warm, why then her gaze be frozen;
If solace be pain, untold pain grows in her heart.
I have heard words benevolent, tender and kind,
But no such words hear I in her speech;
And in some tortures is there more delight
Than in the sympathy that from my Mother comes.
I love to hear her teach, yet well I know
That the old scripts hath far greater compassion;
I grant I never saw a Tae'dae foster;
My Mother when she breeds abides practicality
And yet, by Nil, I think my loyalty as rare
As any she belied with faulty judgement

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Dedicated to my ever-benevolent Mother, Nariah d'Vanecu, in return for all the
scoldings, naggings, preachings, and being chastised with a silken fan.