Labour and love.

Steadily it continues to tick,

changing seasons...

mothers persevere,
even as time moves,
but still we lag.
We slow our steps
to give way to those we love,
they move forward.

Is it the irony of our existence
or  a God-given instinct
- how it was and is to be,
to give all and have less.
To grow big with child,
and loose more of self.
That love should hold us back
to ensure they do not lack.
To gain satisfaction from that fruit,
to pour all into one
who may walk away
and leave us
alone.

And finally we are left in this place,
of memories of expressions
and moments,
in our precious possession.

- HA