A mother holds her child with care,
Worried till death but he's still there.
A small light of hope gleams in her eyes,
She watches her sick son as time flies.
A small flower peaks from far,
Sensing the mother's inner war,
She wished a last goodbye to her seed,
Sending a playful pat to a weed.
The wind gained pace fast,
And the flower was torn at last.
Still in beautiful shape she was,
Falling near a broken window glass.
The son smiled for a while there,
The flower decorates the fluffy bear.
The mother thanked the flower,
The child's smile made the heavens cower.
YOU ARE READING
#➊ 》𝕵𝖆𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖞 : ℍ𝕪𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖
RandomWelcome to the first-ever issue of "𝑯𝒚𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒆". Here, we'll take you through a variety of things from artworks by our members, to short stories, poems, the current happenings of the world and many more as you enter this Wonde...
