Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Peonies and mom



Baubles or trinket
I wish not to inherit
Neither a rich legacy
to invoke a jealousy
A priceless portrait
In red robe, black plait
Holding peonies white
spreading sunshine bright
When i feel down and low
I caress the robe, slow
Mother extends her robed hand
fragrance wafts, fills every gland
I yearn for you dear
So far away, yet so near.

Written for : Magpie Tales