A treasure trove, for an ineffable mother,
I love thee only, thou art a
Alas! The world has decimated thy themes now that frayed!
Can I not look for some words quite impeccable and praiseworthy
To make vivid thy tender and cherishing,
Thy nature for thy children, thy luscious tonality in lulling them?
Can I not, by some figures construe
Thy decisive love I receive,
The riveting elation, so like to wondrous beat?
Can I not, by some similes, metaphors construe
Thy life sacrificed, in the long run of tendering a family,
Thy canvas so huge, Ah, all verses filled, cannot express thy being.
So let me cease my lines this way –
Words can naught do,
But blithely gladden thee.