Tender hands rubbing the astronomical belly with regrets and guilt – still abortion was not an option to you.
Big hugs, armoured by your sweat of quitting school and doing hard labour.
I always knew that your fixed eyes were a reminder of the ‘B7’ rule.
The only treat I received were your thin, tender lips approaching my ‘soft-like-homemade-bread’ cheeks
8 years and migrating, not because you didn’t want me, but money was the problem .
I always wanted to be a quantity surveyor didn’t back me down as a MISTAKE, but groomed me to follow my dreams of being a published teenage author .
You’ve shown me the reality of being brave through your hardships as a teen .
Your Majesty my QUEEN, at just 16, I called you Mom .