Mother.

Mother.

As small as she was,

She could barely recognize me.

But whenever I turned to leave,

She held my finger with her tiny hand.

 

I looked at her with love,

Every time she held my finger.

Caressing her with utmost delicacy,

I poured love on her every minute.

 

When I look at her now,

I can feel that the roles have reversed.

For now I am her little child,

And she, virtually , my mother.

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Megha Suresh
Writing refreshes me. I write to express. Whatever I feel, I pen it down. :)

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