Mother of my being
In solemn fidelity to your keeper
You both spoke the gamete into form
Clothed agonies dripping from your coast.

Your deep moan rained on me like milk
With my world bearing colours of your garlands
Your mild reneges and reproofs  
Has inflicted on me; scars of correction.

Like a young lad
Lost in the labyrinth of ecstasy
While fumbling with imperfection
We killed time with our episodes.

In the navel of my sacred memories
I lit a golden candle bearing your name
The years and feats owes you gratitude
Cos your face is born in me.

© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2017