I'm sorry, Mom.

I tried to write you

a poem.

I tried, I really do.

But I failed.

Words are just, insufficient

To merely describe you.

Or maybe it's just me,

stunned by your love,

when trying to,

Remember every single deed

that I owe you.

What shall I compare you to, Mom?

A big tree that shelter love?

A burning candle that burn for others?

Or an angel that light up life?

I can't mom, I can't.

You are more

than all these.

You are the holy ones, that

hide yourself inside

a mortal flesh.

Look at you,

eaten up by the time that hunger youth;

wore down by my bloody sin.

How I wish my tears are elixir,

to free you from

the mortal flesh.

Count not the things that you would do.

Its just like counting

the endless stars

As they say heaven lift you up high,

Nothing is as great as you, Mom.

And I promise you this, Mom

As long as you have me, us;

Everyday is Mother's day.

I love you, Mom.

Love: Your eldest son,

& sons.