Motherly Love
It's a love that originates from nurture.
Sweet baby, I am not your mother.
Love, at first sight, was that supposed to happen.
Did that happen to us, baby?
No, because I am not your mother.
Your first cry did not provoke tears
But rather a silence,
Much like my words.
Did I wait nine months to meet you?
Yes.
But I’m not your mother.
You were unexpected, sweet baby.
The thought of you was accepted, but not truly assimilated.
My ear was home to your echoing cries.
Cries that your mother, ignored.
Sweet baby, learning to care for you was like learning to walk.
A walk your mother has yet to fully master.
Attached. My mind, heart, and soul.
A motherly love runs through my veins now.
My mind and heart are now camcorders
Dedicated to capturing your pure essence:
Your curious brown eyes,
Soft hair dark as the night
Your sweet laugh that seems to mock me.
The way you rub your eyes when sleep is near,
The way you jump in my arms when you hear music.
No, it was not love at first sight.
It was a love that grew in me over time.
I am not your mother sweet baby but,
You planted a seed in my heart
That grew into motherly love.
Thank you, Sweet Baby.
~M.Garcia
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