Mum
Mum
Mum, let her sleep mother,
For it’s time, time to lay fatigue bone,
Time to cover up with a quiet rest forever,
After much ruffled in the,
Dust wrapper and grave sheets.
You have done, done most
For you would no longer mourned,
Wailed in tears for the remainder,
Even us lambs, devotee Shepherd,
The offspring here matured,
And face what life is there to live,
Expectation of saying thank you
Is lost in warring for survival,
No more, cared, feared, sleepless, hungered,
Thirst and suffered through her dried,
Patched and desert encroached jubilee,
No more waking,
Like cock crow at dawn,
Up and about on her feet,
Crouched in front of pot of daily bread,
Blowing Aeolian into dying embers,
A muttered to Almighty:
Help! I have to feed the large mouths,
Although we were still slumbering,
In rest keep blossoming like morning glory,
Let dew of death brought out your freshness,
In dream placate, dialogue, and supplicate,
To let last through life
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