Mother...
Mother, what to
say about her,
She is a friend?
A sister?
Or is she everything to us?
Mom, a loving
soul,
Working night and day
Leading us away from foul,
About her, what to say,
She is like the moon,
Cowering from the limelight,
She is like the moon,
Shying away from the light.
She wears specs gilded,
Over often flashing eyes dreaded,
But she lets us have our way,
In spite of much cry and sway.
She does her work quietly,
Like a breeze,
Never does she speak complainingly,
Leading our family without a crease.
A lamp, she is,
true and old,
With a heart truly of gold,
Never will her heart waver,
More than the dying soldiers, braver.
A lamp, whose
light will never dim,
Even if the sun and the moon perish,
Even if we become dim,
She turns us bright in a flourish.
Love you, O mighty
soul,
Who will protect us even from a ghoul,
Carrying on her work,
Without the slightest jerk.
From Ayshwarya.R.Vikram
Class 10, Trivandrum Kerala India
Thank you for this lovely poem, Ayshwarya!
