By Priya darshini
A mother’s love is felt before we are born,
For nine months, she carries us without having seen our form.
She does not know who we will become,
But each heartbeat brings us closer to her as one.
For two years, she gives her blood so we may grow,
Turning it to milk, with nothing more to show.
She never asks for anything back,
Yet in her care, we find what we lack.
She smiled when we cried for the first time,
But behind her smile was pain she never let shine.
Her love is silent, deep, and true,
A love that lasts our whole life through.