Content warning
This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.
A Mother's Love
An Ode to Unwavering Bond and Endless Grace
In the cradle of your arms, I found my start,
A love so pure, a beating heart,
Your soothing lullabies in the night,
Guided me through darkness to the light.
In every tear, you wiped away my fears,
And whispered courage in my eager ears,
With hands that heal and words that mend,
You are my fortress, my dearest friend.
Your sacrifice, a boundless ocean deep,
A love that wakes, a love that never sleeps,
In every smile and in each embrace,
I find the warmth of your eternal grace.
A mother's love, a bond so strong,
In your embrace, where I belong,
You're the guiding star, the gentle shore,
In your love, I'll forever explore.
So here's to you, in heartfelt rhyme,
A mother's love, transcending time,
In every beat of my grateful heart,
You're my masterpiece, a work of art.
About the Creator
Esther Anima
My stories are not just ink on paper; they are the echoes of my dreams and the whispers of my deepest passions. Join me on this literary voyage, and together, we'll explore the vast universe of human experience, one word at a time.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Esther Anima and writers in Poets and other communities.
His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress7 days ago in Poets
Confessions of an Empath
The birds are chirping, and the sun is shining in a cloudless July sky. The vibrancy promises a beautiful day, but the cooing of the Mourning Dove perched on the powerlines seems to be more fitting than the lively songs of the robin flitting through the trees. The melancholic calls of the dove cloak the world in a sadness that hangs like tattered drapes.
By Alyssa Nicole5 days ago in Confessions
Comments (3)
This was such a wonderful tribute! Loved your beautiful poem!
👌👍
Mother's love is precious