Dear Best Mom in the Ever Expanding Universe,

Here is a thought for you.

You are like a language

I can never hope to master,

because

mastery requires knowing

and learning,

and understanding.

And, everything fails when I begin to try to fathom

the depths you operate from;

there are rules with you

but all of them spell love-

so,

even if I break them, time and again,

I still get love.

Languages punish those who mess them up.

but you have cared for me through all this mess-

I am sorry I mess it all up, sometimes.

There are punctuations I fail to place right-

with you, question marks become redundant;

somehow, you know all the right answers…

Is it a part of mom-training, mom?

With you, exclamations are soothed, fears allayed

and surprises rise in so many sunrises-

there are no commas or full stops to hinder

your River of Love.

If only I could understand….

Somehow language makes more sense to me

than mathematics;

you know it best, don't you?

But syntax snubs me

and words fall short every time I try to tell you

I love you.

Do you know how bad it is to fail at

the thing you think you know best?

I fail at words

yet words are the best I can do

to tell you is my utmost honour

to have shared a body with you, once

and to share your heart, forever.

I am so proud to be a part of you

I am so proud to be called your daughter.

Yours (even if I deny it sometimes) lovingly,

Me