Mummy

By De Ming

Sixteen years ago,

A story began to unfold,

A story about a lump,

That told of a child that was to come.

My Mom she could have wanted me not,

Given me up without a thought,

But she let herself be cut opened,

For a baby that would not turn.

There were needles through her wrist,

There were stitches the doctors installed,

Just so her son could exist,

My Mom, she bears it all.

Without her I would not be,

Without her there was no me,

She was the reason to my presence,

The story behind my existence.

When I was a baby in her arms,

She would sing till I was calm,

She would pat me over here,

And whisper softly in my ear.

When I was a kid by the gate,

I would be scolded by the maid,

For I cried till no end,

When my Mom let go of my hand.

But when the gate swung open once more,

And as she came back in again,

I would run at her call,

And would hug her till my arms pained.

When I was a teenager with many dreams,

She helped me to believe in myself,

And guided me from walls I have not seen,

She helped me to be more of myself.

It is her birthday today,

And needless to say,

There were times when we made each other mad,

There were others when we made each other sad.

But beyond all that,

Beyond the bickering and arguing,

I have always appreciated,

This Mom I have been gifted.

Happy Birthday Mummy!