She: The Producer Of Life Poem by Mousumi Rajbangshi

No matter how many times I tried, it could not come out;
When a philosophy was scattered in the pages, 'The ocean was made of words, flowing through the eyes, that too was filtered.'
I thought of writing a poem to hum it in a melodious tune,
But there is no song that would be enough to depict your love: 'unconditional'.
The one who once sat under the banyan, I found that there is no shade like your lap, fame and digging aside.
There is no sense like your affection.
There is no way to store you in a piece of paper.
All the efforts to put you into words went in vain,
God's narration:
'Leave it stubborn, you are not such a writer who can bind your mother.'