She was the mother to all
In our house
Mother to me and my father,
To my mother and to my siblings
She was eighty when I remembered her last
And her hair was black
She was proud that she could walk straight
Weak people bend before others
Once the man who milked our cows
Asked her if she would live for ever
If you can thread hundred needles
In fifty blinks of my eyes
He did not ask again
And no one as her answer was like that
She lived a score years longer
Than our grandfather
She died when the house became empty
All were gone to towns for jobs
She missed being called Ma
Even the house parrot had forgotten her
What a touching and wonderful tribute to a beloved grandmother. It makes me remember my own grandmother who was always concern on everybody. Yes, a grandmother is a mother to many. Let us show them our love even if we are not beside them. A little communication does magic and gives a glow to their life.
Oh, it is a great tributes to your grandmother.though she was eighty she could walk straight. She was the mother to all in your house.Her love is unmesaurable. Nice work. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
A heartfelt write. The.last lines convey a meaningful message. Beautifully written.