My First Love

Wrinkled, but beautiful still

Even in decrepit apparel and when uncombed;

Jagged skin and sensual fragrance lost

But still spongy her touch is and the smell

Only thing I’d miss the most in the universe.

Toiled through hardship and still indebted,

Altruistic she- uncared and unattended her own needs,

But protected her offspring despite dearth

From cold and famine, the fatal scourge,

And well-groomed into esteemed mortals.

In spite piercing pang and pain within

Beautiful soul, still smile on the parched lips,

For bold but tender my darling is,

So kind at heart and divinely soft in speech,

She is, perhaps the surrogate of Goddess.

Aged and hoary now appears my hero,

But conversant, cultured and well-versed,

The fount of worldly wisdom she is

Who speaks of art of living and greatness-

The lessons from myriad mistakes of her past.

Dearest and my favorite, still the one I so adore,

And now Silver Jubilee of our intimacy,

Fonder my heart becomes of her, my love,

Indubitably the most desired and undeniable,

Only is she the joy and ecstasy of my life.

Best friend she is to me since infancy

With whom I played and quarreled often,

And my sweetheart, indeed my first love,

With whom I had my first kiss and shared a quilt-

My beloved mother- the creator of this poet.

I love you, mom.