This post is a little late but I just wanted to say that I think there has been a mistake. My birthday (April 6) is NOT only celebrating God blessing me with 12 years of life but also (if not only) that 1 my Mother worked so hard to raise me for 12 years. And that she sacrificed sooooooooooooooo much for me, THANK YOU MOM. Here is the most perfect poem for you:

MOTHER

By Edgar Guest

Never a sigh for the cares that she bore for me
Never a thought of the joys that flew by;
Her one regret that she couldn't do more
Never a thought of the joys that flew by;
Her one regret that she couldn't do more for me,
Thoughtless and selfish, her Master was I.
Oh, the long nights that she came at my call to
me!

Oh, the soft touch of her hands on my brow!
Oh, the long years that she gave up her all to
me!
Oh, how I yearn for her gentleness now!
Slave to her baby! Yes, that was the way of
her,

Counting her greatest of services small;
Words cannot tell what this old heart would
say of her,
Mother -- the sweetest and fairest of all.

And 2 it this is the 12th year that my Dad has worked so hard for me and the rest of our family day, after day, to have food and a bed and a roof to sleep under. THANK YOU DAD. Here is a poem for you Dad:

FATHER

By Edgar Guest

Used to wonder just why father
Never had much time for play,
Used to wonder why he'd rather
Work each minute of the day.
Used to wonder why he never
Loafed along the road an' shirked;
Can't recall a time whenever
Father played while others worked.

Father didn't dress in fashion,
Sort of hated clothing new;
Style with him was not a passion;
He had other things in view.
Boys are blind to much that's going
On about 'em day by day,
And I had no way of knowing
What became of father's pay.

All I knew was when I needed
Shoes I got 'em on the spot;
Everything for which I pleaded,
Somehow, father always got.
Wondered, season after season,
Why he never took a rest,
And that _I_ might be the reason
Then I never even guessed.

Father set a store on knowledge;
If he'd lived to have his way
He'd have sent me off to college
And the bills been glad to pay.
That, I know, was his ambition:
Now and then he used to say
He'd have done his earthly mission
On my graduation day.

Saw his cheeks were getting paler,
Didn't understand just why;
Saw his body growing frailer,
Then at last I saw him die.
Rest had come! His tasks were ended,
Calm was written on his brow;
Father's life was big and splendid,
And I understand it now.