From the memories of childhood impressed upon my mind,
I recall the day we had our first disagreement.
I was three.
Mother, you looked so beautiful!
‘I hate you.’
I scribbled on the drawing book
In my big, obscure handwriting.
You nodded and walked away.
Was it a tear I saw at the corner of your eye?
It was a long time ago.
I turn to see you smiling,
Reliving the day with me.
You are aging now, Mother.
My beautiful mother – wrinkled and freckled.
A sudden flash of thoughts;
Insecurity creeps in.
I was naive then, I know now.
‘Stay with me forever, Mother’;
I lunge at you like my childhood self.
You gently pat my back –
With a hint of tears in your eyes
And a rejected, desolate sadness
Etched across your beautiful face.
The tears were there then;
The tears are here still.
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