The poet: she is a mother

Her love is real,
she is a burning candle,
she burn in darkness
she light with waving flames,
she become soft glowing,
she looks like ray’s
of the sun in the sky.

As, times goes on,
she start falling,
in the horizon of
below reflection
it’s so pity to see her,
in this period of obscurity,
it’s ambiguity of gradual
decline of shining
that fades like a twilight.

Fire washing away
the waxing stick
for the seek of you,
wishing you success,
for a better tomorrow,

Giving out her comfort
to composition your dream,
she melt from her erected
structure for nurturing
you to that of burning candle.

Her light never go
away in your life,
she burned down
but her present
remains in your
memory to the last
day of your breaking breath.

I never see a person
that denies her sacrifice,
she can give her last
meal and nap with
empty stomach.

She is a mother,
she burn herself in
darkness, that is
how she sacrifice
her life for you.
her love is unconditional.



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