My Crying Happy Mom Poem by Sk. Nurul Huda

Here the green and waving bagri corns
Overlaps the trembling paddy fields
And the breeze broadens the horizon.

Here the water of the poor ponds
And the bathing peers withers in moments
The Ganges flows with the troops.

Here Van Gogh plays with his smiling hand
And blurs the focused objects awefull
And surpasses the zoomed ones.

This was my mom the great romantic
This was she the senjuou one in specific
This was her power to portray over poor canvas.