Mother poems from Learning and Creativity – Enjoy this beautiful poem about a mother’s endless struggle to make her boisterous 3-year-old listen to her.
Hush, what’s that?
Pattering of a skittish, little animal
Running from danger
Chased by heavy and foreboding steps?
A squeaky, but no-nonsense ‘No’!
A curt retort, and a door shut.
Into the closed room, I storm, with weapons two.
“No mom, no, never!”
She traipses and twirls, dodges and flees.
Hides under the bed, eyes red, tears unshed.
“No mommy no.”
Her speech, like a brook gone haywire.
In squeaky tones, she screams, I beseech.
Suddenly her eyes gleam in serendipitous glee.
Alas! I am whacked on the head with a fly swatter
By my three year old daughter!
In strident tones, she mocks,
“No mommy, I will not wear socks.”
All around the room, starts hurling her frocks.
“Take this, this and this”, she hisses.
But misses me.
I pull her in my lap, she talks and talks against socks.
“No, nev…” Throwing a tantrum at her socks-wielding mum.
Hands clamped together, white knuckled.
“No, ne”.., she flails her tiny legs, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Outside, the dark brilliance of the sky, pours out the night.
Her eyes still shine bright with a determination robust.
I beseech. “It is cold, you must.”
Ah, miraculously, the gust of wind, uncontrolled is tamed.
Not me, but sleep is to be blamed.
A tiny thumb creeps into her mouth soon
From the window, happily smiles the moon.
Two moonbeams cover her feet
Now snugly ensconced in socks.
This memory chunk is suddenly unlocked
As limpid eyed, I now see my twenty year old daughter pulling socks
Over her grown – up feet.
“It is cold maa, wear your socks too.” She smiles.
A sigh escapes my lips and drapes me tight
The moon still smiles bright.
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