My Mother

There she is.
That is her,
my mother.

Whenever I got angry or troubled.
When life got muddled.
It was never a bother
to turn to my mother.

We walked a long road, behold,
through dizzy city and desert cold.
Many secrets to each other,
we told.

At times she carries me.
At times I carry her.
At times life gets so tough,
we have to lean on each other.

Yet, like soldiers, we see it through.
Ask her, she’ll say it’s true.

I don’t think she knows
How many of life’s blows
I would never have survived
If she was not by my side.

Even now.
When I have a crooked brow.
I turn to her.
My Mother.