Who is aware of the fear
That a mother has!
Who cares for the worries
That a mother does!
From the birth to the death
And every single moment;
Thinking about moulding and making
She is often depressed.
Who is aware of the love
That a mother has!
Who cares for the service
That a mother does!
From morning to the evening
She always suffers.
Who is aware of those days
When she was begging for alms,
The day we're being starved!
From door to door
And here to there;
Then every nook and corner
With a hope that something would appear.
Sometimes backs with handful fists
While the other times
With gloomy looks.
Yet she further looks around
If something could ever be found
She is never ever satisfied
Until we are fully dined.
©birgon
B