My Little Girl

My little girl is not little anymore

From a tiny bloom to a flower she has wholly grown.

I remember she was in my gestational sac,

Her kicks enthralled me to and back.

Then after nine months, she came in my capes,

Time flies so soon months flew into days.

She is growing inch by inch, bit by bit,

Feeding, crawling, weaning, babbling all at one stake.

Now she will walk and eat,

She ain't require my breastfeed.

She will grow a little surfeit,

And one day will enter her teenage, age of fallacy and myth.

All decisions will be made by my angel, I assume,

Will she listen to my utterances or go against my heed?

She will then be matured by the end of the teen,

Beautiful she will emerge, I yearn to see.

Then one day she will meet her Prince of dreams,

And she will adhere him to his dreamland.

Happy will she be by the end,

I pray to Almighty to save my lad.

Will she come to meet me in my retirement days?

Or will she be busy, my withering eyes would merely gaze?

These questions engulf me day by day,

Shooting off negativity and living in my present Motherhood phase.

It's indeed hard to play a mother's part,

Growing children is not everyone's goblet of the cart.