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Mother, writer and daydreamer. Also chocoholic and chick-flick lover. But mainly mommy. To two boys, at that! When not escorting my Elder One (EO) to karate class, I'm trying to get in as many cuddles as possible from my Younger One (YO). And when not doing either, I'm hard-at-work trying to maintain a steady relationship with my laptop. And as for the Man I Married (MIM), well, let’s just put it this way – even though we share a bedroom, our most meaningful conversations are held over the cell-phone!

Friday, October 31, 2008

My Boys

You listen to stories
with such rapt attention;
you build the movies in your head
and I know you take the lead,
you become the prince on a heroic adventure,
I can see it all happening in your eyes.
My little boy,
growing up
and how!
But to me,
you’re still a child,
a baby.

And you,
my small one,
my little, teddy bear.
You hide behind the curtains,
you climb up on my back;
you munch on chocolates and cookies
and go chasing after bouncy balls
in screaming delight.
My little one,
a baby yet.

After the day is done
and the night has come,
you nuzzle your heads
into my neck
and they fit so well
because they belongs there.
I sing you a lullaby,
or two,
or three,
at times you sing along too,
and before long
it’s your gentle breathing
that I am listening to.

Earth child,
wind child,
my sunshine,
my sunbeam,
my sons,
my little boys.

One with moon dust in his eyes,
The other with star shine.
One with a heart
that’s a river wide,
The other with a laugh
that’s a liberty bell.
My Gallant Knight,
my gentle soul,
my elder one.
My Pixie Prince,
my trickster heart,
my younger one.

I want to be the mom
who lets you spread your wings and fly.

I can be that mom
Who lets you fly planes across the oceans
Or go backpacking round the world.
I can be the mom
Who lets you bang on drums for a living
Or put on ghungroos to dance.

I can be that mom
Who let’s you struggle
To see your celluloid dreams come true,
Or whips up omelets in a restaurant
Or designs dresses out of peacock colours
and gossamer silk.

Yes.
I can be her,
I can be that mom.

But can I be the mom
Who kisses you off to war?
Standing straight
and proud,
tearless,
fearless?
Can I be that mom
who sits with photographs in the dark;
a prayer on her lips,
a hope in her heart,
fearful,
tearful?
Safety on her mind,
Life a hope,
a wish.

Can I be that mom
Who pretends everything is fine?
Watching the news all the time,
waiting for phone calls,
e-mails,
letters
or even a post-card or two?
I’ll be proud
no matter what you do,
I’ll be proud
no matter what you choose.

You’re my little boys,
I’ll give you all my best
in the Gods I trust,
and to Them I’ll leave the rest.

8 comments:

Monika,Ansh said...

Awwwwwww.......u write so well & with such emotions. I go awww every time I read your writing. This is one of the best :)

Mama - Mia said...

:)

namesake everytime i read your posts, i thank my stars for having found your blog!

amd i sure hope to SEE you someday with the EO and YO! :)

hugs

abha

Mamma mia! Me a mamma? said...

Aww! You girls! You're both my cheer-up pals, you know that?

pseudo intellectual said...

this was an incredible bit of poetry. i must tell your boys someday what a wonderful mother they have :)

pseudo intellectual said...

and i agree with monika(am not sure if any prefix or suffix is needed)... this is one of your best.

Still thinking said...

As I keep saying, the more I read you, the more I just want to be a Mom. Just a mom :)

The poem was heart rendering...

Mystic Margarita said...

It's so beautiful, M4! see, now you've gone and made my cry. If I may say so, your little boys are very lucky to have a mom like you and also, obviously, the other way round.

Casuarina said...

Touching, indeed.