My Mother
My Mother
1 min
116
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.