hello guys today is mother's day
so a sweet and lovely poem on mother's day....
❌❌no spamming ❌❌❌
Answers
Explanation:
My Mother
Motherliness is not something to talk upon,
It is something that is to be felt,
A woman may feel motherliness
Without giving birth to any child,
But no man can take a birth without a mother,
Those who do not have mother are
The most unfortunates one,
Or the unfortunates ones are those
Who do not have a mother.
I am happy, I have a mother;A loving mother.
She is my mother, and I am her son,
Her smile is beautiful,
And her face shines like a sun,
Genesis says 'God made man in his image'.
But, I say,'God made Mothers in his image,
And 'men see God in mother's image.'
If you really understand the heart of mother
Then there's no need to search any guru and such lineage
One hour with Mother is more than
Without her, an age.
My mother is the most optimistic person
I have ever realised,
She says nothing new,
But what sayings says
Whatever happens, happens for the best.
Not only she says it, but also lives it
One day we both were just crossing a road,
A car hit her, but I had a narrow escape,
Aftermath, she was in the hospital,
After a month or so,
She recovered.
I asked her,
What Good you will see in the accident?
The mother only said, thank God,
The car hit me, not my son
Tears rolled down my cheek
To see such an unselfish love,
Is not God in her?
Where to seek it,
Every mother is unique,
Every mother is great,
In India, woman is first mother
Than anything else.
If God is everywhere,
Then a little more in mother
Than anything else.
HER HANDS
Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.
Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn't always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.
Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harm's way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.
Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me.
Sheenu .. ek Baar iss I'd par message karo ya puewa92 Ko karne bolo mera comment blocked hai :-(......your bro ;-)
.... MPBF