She’s a kind of art,
A beauty with no bounds of imagery.
She shows up like a poem that doesn’t ask to be read,
Her beauty tucked away in quiet metaphors,
The kind not everyone’s meant to get.
She’s a poem with her own language,
Simple on purpose, hoping to be understood.
She’s a kind of beauty that protects.
In every little thing she says,
I learn what it means to be human.
"Mother" that’s what I’ve always called her.
Yanma,
I love the poem, and who did the illustration? It is very nice!
Marla
And once you read, she immediately becomes your favorite.
Thank you, @Uilleam.
That's lovely, Yanma.
a poem that doesn't ask to be read,
but one which you choose to read anyway.
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Yanma Hidayah
Mon 28th Apr 2025 07:13
Thank you, Marla. I got it from a friend, by the way.