Mother’s velvet touch II
I still remember mother’s velvet touch,
When she considered me a mere toy
And found me dreaming more than overmuch,
And wanted to restrain her ghetto-boy.
She fondled me and told me, “your schemes
Are stuff of over-ambitious, heady dreams.”
She worried like a hen, albeit, her joy
Was written on her visage, sweet and coy.
But in her prime, ( I was a more promise,
A seed, a bud, an idea of a song),
She went away to heaven like a blitz,
But still remained a presence all along,
My uninterrupted journey to success,
Within my mental hearing and access.
