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My Mother

  • Nandini Sengupta
  • Sep 11, 2021
  • 1 min read

Updated: Apr 1, 2022


As I intend to write-

I falter for the right words,

Some pertinent phrases,

Which might delineate her forthright.


Longing for me to return,

My appearance would dislodge her fear,

And brighten up her eyes, I could discern.

Her love is ever forgiving and dear.


I feel her touch, hear her voice,

Caressing me in pain and

Calling me for lunch,

Indelible memories to rejoice.


Every tale has to be narrated-

Not a drop to be left.

Even her rebukes reflect the love

In all its hues.


Her smile emanates her inner strength-

She is my loving mother

Her love and warmth are

Forever intense and pure.


By Nandini Sengupta

@metaphors_of_life

2 comentários


arnabsengupta007
02 de dez. de 2021

Mother’s love… Self less as always…

Curtir

SH
SH
31 de out. de 2021

This one is truly beautiful. An ode to mother—the most precious of beings. I loved reading this Nandini. Regards, Abhay.

Curtir

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