As I sit on my high chair,
My mother, she feeds me,
With a tiny silver spoon,
Mashed carrots and potatoes,
Spoons full of love,
Wipes the tiny corners
Of my mouth tenderly,
The wind chime moves,
Swinging in the wind,
The honeybees buzz
In and out of the flowers.
There are tears in
My mother's eyes,
I know not why.
She hugs me tight,
Brushes my curls aside
Whispers sorry and brings
Her trembling hands
To my dainty neck,
I look into her eyes
Filled with tears,
I feel no pain,
Other than the one
In my heart,
She took what she
Gave me 'life'
As I sit on my grave,
Looking at the grass shake
Merrily in silence,
Sifting mud between
My little fingers,
My loving mother lies
Next to me
Refusing to wake up.
Reshma Ramesh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/momma-s-darling/
