• vaishi 13w

    Here, I am up with the portrait of my mother.
    Let me begin with her thin glossy hair
    Whose black marks the dark minutes of her labour
    And some whites, that hold her benevolence!
    But no wonder, she carries the both
    As a crown of pride on her bowing head.
    The pleasing eyes frown on my errors;
    Glow on my victories; weep on my pain;
    And never fail to spread warmth on my fall.
    How pleasing they are on her creased face!
    Those lips, so tender and still bear the chaps
    But wicked she is, for she hides them
    Under a small curve of her sinless smile;
    Her sunken bosoms sound more divine,
    For, they fed me ignoring the flaws they get;
    And her bloated abdomen still bears the scars
    As an art, that came out of my rash moves,
    Which is probably the only thing I gave to her;
    Her dry palm carries the crippled lines of age
    But still secrete the moisture of love
    When my parched confidence finds her lap;
    Every part of her body bears a defect,
    Yet beautiful and I never cease to adorn them
    For, she happily accepted all only for me.
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    #mother #portrait @saurav_sultania @lovenotes_from_carolyn @carolyns_lovenotes_and_reposts @elly____ @shashwatmishra_kanahiya @livingfossil16 @mirakeereposter @pingu_pennameofmine @mirakee_reposts

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    Portrait of my Mother

    ©vaishi