A mother is not merely a woman, but holds within her a ceaseless love, within which she creates a spell of constant care. It is hard to imagine the chemical combinations which makes this love universal, all I could do is watch, spellbound, at this love and envy every child resting peacefully on their mother's arms.
|Courtesy : The Mag|
Like mist before the Sun,
Like an august spirit's triumphant run,
Her words for me like cautious trust,
Her arms, generous and snug,
In her grasp I felt numerous and warm,
Within her care, in constant delight,
Leaving behind truths, of disparate moods,
Forgetting the World's unfamiliar rhetoric,
I wish to run back to my mother's hands,
I wish to be enveloped within her cordial hug,
Where in I shall be a child, if so for an alluring trice!