A mother is a mother whether adopted, sponsored or biological!
Above line will always be remembered by me till I live. I am posting the poem 'Maa - The Mother' on my blog for all my readers who are proud mothers. This poem got published in my inspirational column and it was dedicated to my mother.
Above line will always be remembered by me till I live. I am posting the poem 'Maa - The Mother' on my blog for all my readers who are proud mothers. This poem got published in my inspirational column and it was dedicated to my mother.
In the first kick of a baby
She feels a life in her womb
In those few seconds
She is overwhelmed with joy
Shine of her eyes
And a big grin on her face
She enjoys every bit of pampering
On the journey to motherhood .
Umbilical cord holds them together
In forty weeks of hide-and-seek
And then the day comes
When she holds her own baby
She kisses her countlessly
Looks at her in the daylight and the shade
Trying to understand – if she looks like her
As she is now a mother!
Tiring days and sleepless nights
She is always awake to feed
She talks to her baby in numb voice
And often tells her fairy tales
She holds her little fingers
Amid the daisy flowers
But she still waits for the day
When she will be called – ‘maa’
With each passing day
She imagines her own childhood
From baby steps to tiny words
She captures every single move
One afternoon baby calls her – ‘maa’
And tears roll down her cheeks
She calls to tell her mother
As ‘maa’ still echoes in her ears.
She feels a life in her womb
In those few seconds
She is overwhelmed with joy
Shine of her eyes
And a big grin on her face
She enjoys every bit of pampering
On the journey to motherhood .
Umbilical cord holds them together
In forty weeks of hide-and-seek
And then the day comes
When she holds her own baby
She kisses her countlessly
Looks at her in the daylight and the shade
Trying to understand – if she looks like her
As she is now a mother!
Tiring days and sleepless nights
She is always awake to feed
She talks to her baby in numb voice
And often tells her fairy tales
She holds her little fingers
Amid the daisy flowers
But she still waits for the day
When she will be called – ‘maa’
With each passing day
She imagines her own childhood
From baby steps to tiny words
She captures every single move
One afternoon baby calls her – ‘maa’
And tears roll down her cheeks
She calls to tell her mother
As ‘maa’ still echoes in her ears.
