By Sabrina Munir


Going to the woods, running to the scenes

 My mother is nurturing the blooming buds


The bare feet she lays on wild thorns gait

 Scars so deep that they will not heal at ease


Watering the blooms as newly born babies

Pains she take to give them relief


Like she did for me in my babyhood,

Her bosom so warm and mellow


I still feel the touch of her sensitive lips

The all-time affectionate words they poured


Her rose-pink cheeks would lay on mine

With her soothing hands she held me tight


Her velvet lap lulled me tenderly like breeze of melody

Mother’s arms always swung with joy on holding me


Her glittering eyes thrilled out of jollity

The pretty face looked more wonderful


I could notice her lovely feet dancing up in air

She made me grow and taught me lessons of life


Helped me mature my thoughts with her wisdom



Thou art an angel of heaven

So precious, subtle and divine thou art…

“Thou my cradle of nature”





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