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From crawling till walking,
From humming till talking,
From taking my worries when I moan,
To listening to my problems on the phone,
I thank 'mom' for all these times,
She is the symphony in my rhymes.
Forgot few things a child's eye would miss,
She cut her finger deliberating on my favorite dish.
She kept quite when boss shouted for being late,
She had a lot to calculate.
I kept quiet on all these things,
She is a 'hero' whose praise no one sings.
She begged the doctors; even the nurses for me,
She prayed for my success bending on her knees.
She hardly slept when I was a baby,
She groomed me into a fine lady.
I should payback her; in a way she would agree,
For that I have to be a mother as good as 'she.'