She’s got a garden in her backyard,
Two plantlets, waiting to become plants,
She waters them everyday with care,
She wants them to grow, oh so fast!

Then she loses herself in memories,
Memories of the plantlets when small,
So tender and so naïve,
That they’d always tend to fall.

She supports them with twigs and sticks,
So that they are upward bound,
She chops them sometimes,
If they branch, towards the ground

She waits for them to grow,
‘Oh! Why do they grow so slow’?

She’s got a home in her house,
She’s got two naïve kids in this home,
She’s brought them up with utmost care,
Now she waits, to see how they fare.

My mother; she waits,
For us kids to become men.