My mother sits in her chair and ponders about her babies.
My mother keeps quiet and listens to my anger and pain..
My mother sleeps with wet eyes but wipes my tears before I sleep.
My mother prays for me the whole day and night and keeps me safe in all plight.
My mother is my purest soul I can touch and feel.
My mother cares and loves my siblings equally but sometimes she cries as we all have hurt her.
My mother she sat on the chair knitting sweaters and wiping tears of her own.. I wonder where was I??? Why couldn't I wipe her tears like she does?