Sunday, 24 July 2011
From the day I took my first breath.
Her hands were so warm.
That made me yawn and fell asleep.
When I was a one-year-old child,
Her hands helped to guide me
As I took my first step,
I was sure that she would take care of me.
Her hands held me close,
When the tears started to fall.
Her hands were often there to comfort me
When I fell down onto the floor.
Her hands would clap, cheer and praise
When I did well,
Her hands are now aging
Years after years.
Her hands have to help
To nurture this young tree.
I am sure you know who the young tree is,
I have more confidence
To face my future undertakings
under her guidance.
Do you know who is she?
She is my dearest mother,
My mother's hands are perfect
And her love is real.
Her hands create...............
A great and wonderful stories
To tell !