She is frail,
tall and brown
Now wrinkled
Yet her eyes
Pool of dreams,
That she had woven,
For her offspring
In her youth
And again
in her retirement,
Promising heaven and earth
In the motley denouement.
Before the crow’s wake up call
She took me to the silent open
Showed me flowers opening up
Flock of small birds spreading
The Wings, and bridging love in unity
Radiating crimson and azure rise.
A sojourn she delivered
In piety and love, a start she led.
In silence and sound’s fury
She remained calm
Like thousand miles
Deep under the sea,
Denying the procession
A vulgar jubilation,
That permeates through
Zealots crying
For an overkill.
An obscure angel
Moon among the clouds;
Pole star, gliding the spirit to grow
And never stumble.
Guiding the soul to promote
Flourish in harmony.
She is my mother,
Who never thought
I would grow to be
A man.
(No tribute, gratitude is enough for the woman who never sleeps when I am awake, is always awake when I am in deep sleep. Her protective shades never leave even if it is cool outside and overhead, she made me learn to be resilient as could a man be . she simply groomed me to be man enough. LOVE TO HER, I wish I could again be the crying baby, who thought mothers were there to be troubled . It was posted earlier on 22.01.2009)
