The Role of a Mother

 


Mother is a Breakfast


After the moon fades away

It is Mama's coyly shouts

That awaken sleeping souls.


Her kitchen utensils,

Washed and awaiting service,

She warms the water,

And gives me the bathe.


A washerwoman who toils from dawn---

To dusk.

Seeking to fend for the family 

That needs a piecemeal 


Sweet balls of sweat

Run down her skin

Tiny rivulets of river

Filled with passion. 


She is sucked-

She is sucked-dry 

And milked out of breast

Till the breasts lie flabby.

Debeautifying her 

Yet she favors life above appearance.


Mama's breast feeds me,

It builds me,

It trains me,

But the sun's rays strengthen her.


She gives me the breast 

To play and feed

Till I want no more.

Though it is flabby, she asks, if I am satisfied.

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