Mama The Rose Poem by Aisha Sherazi

I asked my son,
When all is done,
How would you,
Describe me?

He replied,
As he sighed,
'Mama,
You are a rose.'

A rose is sweet,
It was a treat,
To be a rose,
It truly shows,
How much,
He thinks of me.

Its fragrant bloom,
Fills a room,
With sheer delight,
Its pretty sight,
Beholds the heart,
Indeed.

I smiled a while,
And then did pause,
What if he means,
'A rose with flaws,
You're pretty but-
You have thorns'?

I worried not for long,
I asked about his dad,
Oh, everything was fine,
He replied in earnest,
'Why, Dad's a porcupine! '