How we came here,our mother knows more;
Why we are here,is all a story for us in store.
If we know it not,it is not the flaw of her mill;
Nor is it the defeat of God's,or Nature's will.
The garnering gamut of the mother's womb,
Is not meant to guard us ever,up to the tomb.
Our space here,is just a pulmonary parking lot,
To fix the ills and not to fret about the ratty rot.
Cursing our mother for our self-made setbacks,
Is nothing but a shame to her sacrificing tracks.
A mother is the multiple of our suffering stocks.
Let us bask in her bastion,breaking all our blocks.
Wear not a mask and wish her happy mother's day;
Tear the frills and tuck her spirit into our life's sway.
P. Chandrasekaran.
Why we are here,is all a story for us in store.
If we know it not,it is not the flaw of her mill;
Nor is it the defeat of God's,or Nature's will.
The garnering gamut of the mother's womb,
Is not meant to guard us ever,up to the tomb.
Our space here,is just a pulmonary parking lot,
To fix the ills and not to fret about the ratty rot.
Cursing our mother for our self-made setbacks,
Is nothing but a shame to her sacrificing tracks.
A mother is the multiple of our suffering stocks.
Let us bask in her bastion,breaking all our blocks.
Wear not a mask and wish her happy mother's day;
Tear the frills and tuck her spirit into our life's sway.
P. Chandrasekaran.
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