Her voice is like the ocean
i love it
when she murmurs sweetly
to herself
and her soft speaking
would soothe and calm me down
But sometimes
She can get really loud
like the seas
roaring in a storm

Her hair varies
She wakes up like Bob Marley
brushes it
goes to work
wearing it like any ordinary woman
when she comes home
her hair reminds me
of dry fuzzy grass
during hot summer months

Her hands are always busy
Scrubbing, writing, cooking
It's almost rough
like sandpaper
but when sometimes
she holds me with care
They're like the
velvet palms I don't wanna let go

Mother's eyes
They are windows of an old dungeon
and a strong person
is locked and lonely inside
but sometimes
her eyes seem to sparkle
and sing
and I hate it when I see
beads of water
trailing on her cheeks

Mother
A powerful soul,
who molded and taught me
about life, about this world
with her voice,
her hands,
her eyes

Mother
who cared and scolded
I miss her tender kisses
her warm hugs
which I get often
when i was still small

I know I've grown up,
It's not that it's awkward
I hate that it has changed this way
but I also know
deep inside
that worn-out soul
still lies a burning flame
of love and parently care

I just know that.
Mother knows that.
Only time will tell.
Only time will show.

But I am afraid of waiting.
I am afraid it might be too late.
Even if they say, it's never too late.

Mother.
Whose heart and spirit has shaped
and formed
the person I am now.
Mother.
Who has been with me through all this time.

My Mother.
The one thing,
The one person,
I can be most proud of.

Mother.
My Mother.