The greatest stage of altruism,
Best in the home, with no speck of egoism,
The pure atmosphere of optimism,
Courageously surviving the world's criticism.
Immortality, a god in flesh and blood,
flexible and fragile but in her territory, she is lord,
choosing Family over all, she knows she is called.
Amidst her mates, she is always odd.
She is a child's first companion and lover,
Plainness and perfection are her dealer,
She is an example in act and character,
Responsibilities on her shoulder, unending, forever,
She looks after her home as a caretaker,
Even though in her husband's house, she's a sojourner,
Not a religious practitioner,
Yet life's biggest supporter.
My mother is no psychologist
neither can she be called a therapist,
But in motherhood, she is a professional,
Motherhood, to her own self it is detrimental,
But she looks at her children and sees her testimonial
Although sometimes she can be emotional,
Still, her love is not conditional.
A position she occupies even when she's old
Her canopy she can never fold
Come rain, come sunshine, or even the cold
She never places herself in the first place
The hurt in her eyes I can never face.
Motherhood,
A training from childhood to adulthood
A pathetic and thoughtful fellow, who shall judge this case?
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