My Mother

My mother, to me, is like a Arwa bint kurayz*/ She snatches me from the death's mouth thrice/ Nurturing me up for all the day long/ To protect me from another demon/ With due respect, I would like to mention/ This is the person who tried her best/To keep me sheltered/From the man made stress/ And natural waves & storm/Under the umbrella of warm's affection/ She is still with me/Her thoughts revolve around me/To bring a smile on my face/ Even she can give up her soul/ To boost up my morale/If she sees my shattered visage/She is always with me/ To deliver some advice/When I go wrong/ To keep me unearthen /From the all vice/And to make my soul strong/ Her holy hand is still upon my shoulder/So, I turned to a perfect man/Alhamdulillah to Almighty, please keep going on/ Mother, in this world, is the best person.