Your calloused hands waver in the bitter cold,
Under the blanket of soot coating them
And your ever smiling appearance betray your feelings of heartache of carrying the world upon your shoulders.
Tears well out of my eyes
As I realise words of gratitude have always failed me,
As they fail me now,
For it is a task to choose the perfect lot,
When none exist to do you well.
The cold no longer matters,
When your warmth fills my heart
For you are my sunshine
Radiating hope into my secluded darkness.
Mother, I now know that you know,
If and when a leaf falls,
The tree stands strong,
Even in winter
When all is thought to be lost,
Blossoms bloom the very next season.
Copyright Aakifah Mahomed 21 June 2014
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