We read about the mothers 
Of the days of long ago, 
With their gentle, wrinkled faces 
And their hair as white as snow; 
They were "middle aged" at forty, 
And at fifty donned lace caps, 
And at sixty clung to shoulder shawls 
And loved their little naps. 

But I love the modern mother 
Who can share in all the joys, 
And who understands the problems 
Of her growing girls and boys; 
She may boast that she is fifty; 

But her heart is twenty-three-- 
My glorious, bright-eyed mother 
Who is keeping young with me. 
~Author Unknown 

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