Mother

This is a poem I wrote in a certificate course examination a few months back. It was written on the spot so it might be a bit different.

Whenever I cried, my mother was there
To wipe my tears, to braid my hair.

As great as the albatross that flies above,
with wings so big, they covered the sun.
My mother’s hands sheltered me below,
she held me tight, never to let go.

As the years passed on, and the seasons changed.
I grew older and she aged.
Her hair went white, her eyes grew sore.
But she never looked so beautiful before.

Now when I cry, I cry for her.
I miss her so, I would die for her.
I know she always loves me,
But I regret the days when she used to plead.
“Child, have your dinner, before it gets cold”.
Thinking back, I am positively sure.
After God made her, he broke the mould.

P.S :- This poem is not based on my mother, but someone else’s.

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