She’s a doe to her calf,
A queen to her larva,
An ewe to her lamb,
The mare that protects her colt until dawn.
Her words are filled with honey;
Beckoning to her child’s every move,
Like the lioness she is;
And the cubs we claimed to be.
Although, I dwelled in her;
For nine months,
I feel disconnected,
And miss her so dearly.
She’s a wife to her man;
And a hero to her babies,
She held my hand;
and helped me walk,
When I couldn’t talk.
If she went extinct;
Then, there will be no us,
No we; no womb for reproduction;
Just a space body orbiting without beings.
She’s a queen without a crown,
A goddess without worshipers,
An idol with many talents,
A mentor that never lacks advice,
But most of all;
She’s the greatest being ever created,
She’s a mother - my mother.
Hoping you love wet poetry