Mom

Not an idea of idealism, 

Nor the possessor of perfection

Neither is she hard as ice,

Nor the symbol of sacrifice.

Just human like you and me,

With emotions and wishes

What difference there could be?

She’s just much more aware 

Of the labour for success,

And the pain for gains

And the only one aware of 

The love in labour pain.

Her words are swords that heal

Her eyes, my fears they steal,

Her decision is the only deal

But nobody knows how does she feel.

Mom always wants just the best for me,

Mom is the root of every family tree.