My Mother

This time when I went to see my mother

I saw her growing older. 

Her face is not as bright as before. 

It becomes dull and pale 

Like a wan wall of my ancestor’s house. 

The charms of her smile 

Becomes fade

Like the shading leaves of an old banyan tree

In my village. 

The spark in her eyes is dimmed

As a rainy sun obstructed by overhead clouds. 

This time when I hugged her 

I felt the change 

And I just smiled.