My Mother Poem by HARVENDRA SINGH

She is the shade of a tree cold and profound,
She is every herb to my aching wound.
She dabs my forehead, putting in her lap
And her lap's warmth gives me a cozy nap.

The seventh heaven, in her feet divine,
A miraculous cure, from her stroking fine,
Her soothing fingers, passing through my hair
Energize my nerves and spirit fair.

She is the solid ground under my feeble feet
Over my head, like the sky broad and neat,
An exorcist to a bad omen or an evil eye,
She is like a goddess from the mountains high.

My heartbeat's rhythm and a unique nurse,
My mother is my comfort and my universe.
-Harvendra Singh