She, who nags –
“Please stop!”, I’d beg.
She, who rearranges my desk –
“Where’s my pen?!” I’d scream in distress.
She, who forces veggies down my throat –
“It taste terrible..”, I’d croak.
She, who uses a pillow to cover my face when I snore –
“Leave me alone!“, I was feeling sore.
She, who calls every few hours to ask where I am –
“I’m not a kid anymore!” I’d rage like a ram.
She who nags, I’d miss it when the house is empty. When there’s no echoes of her rants.
She who rearranges my desk, I’d flip every sheet of paper on it if she didn’t. And I still can’t find my pen.
She who forces veggies down my throat, but she’ll never forget to cook my favourite dish.
She who uses a pillow to cover my face when I snore, but drop a kiss on my forehead before she leaves.
She who calls every every few hours to ask where I am, today she didn’t.
And on every mother’s day each year. I’ll sit by the window, reminiscing.
Happy Mother’s Day!
I love you mummy! Please come back home soon!