As I intend to write-
I falter for the right words,
Some pertinent phrases,
Which might delineate her forthright.
Longing for me to return,
My appearance would dislodge her fear,
And brighten up her eyes, I could discern.
Her love is ever forgiving and dear.
I feel her touch, hear her voice,
Caressing me in pain and
Calling me for lunch,
Indelible memories to rejoice.
Every tale has to be narrated-
Not a drop to be left.
Even her rebukes reflect the love
In all its hues.
Her smile emanates her inner strength-
She is my loving mother
Her love and warmth are
Forever intense and pure.
By Nandini Sengupta
@metaphors_of_life
Mother’s love… Self less as always…
This one is truly beautiful. An ode to mother—the most precious of beings. I loved reading this Nandini. Regards, Abhay.