She Is My Mother


In my childhood day,

Dripped all in water and mud I would lay,

Hearing her footsteps,would run like a hare,

She would run after me just for my care

Fixing my tangled hairs with her palm,

Enshrouding me within her arm,

Catching the swivel of her charm,

Being a child;i could feel;the safest place for me without any harm

With enormous motherly love she would feed,

I was a child yet I could read,

Vividness on her face,care in her eyes,

She is a human or god in disguise?


Gleaming eyes,black hair,

Astounding beauty,cute and fair,

Dressed in a saree,I would glare,

None has that beauty even “near”;

Even the most beautified nature fail,

She is my mother, queen of a fairy tale.


My one single smile means a world to her,

Neither a wife nor a sister,

Not a random lady either,

Outstanding all the boundless beauties,She is my mother


She cannot see in me a single tear,

All she does is to stand for what I fear,

No one can imagine in the world,all the pain for me that she bear.

Now that the time has turned up and down,

Away from her exhaustively drowned,

My fingers fumbling over my phone,

Now that I speak in a trembling tone,

She is my mother,au courant and known,

left in the lurch I feel all alone.

Waiting for the time to fill this gap,

Citing those moments when I would gasp,

without a hitch,without a fear,without any rasp

Just I wish,

An ageless nap in her lap.

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