And, a mother fought to birth you, lost in her moment of life and death.

She struggled to feed you, in your moments of helplessness.

And, she wanted to teach you, as your self fought against her.

And, she wanted to be proud of you, as your arrogance said, “I make my own way.”

And, she finally let you fly free, even as you ignored her wisdom as you “knew all.”

The last pure love you will have till you die, but you cast your eyes away.

And, you missed her as you left the nest to make your own road while struggling day today.

Now, while the grey fills your hair, loneliness feeds your soul, and your fleet feet become stone, you reach back in time to say, “Mother, I miss you.”

The one that loved you only and best. Too late. Maybe in the afterlife.