A BOUQUET TO MY MOTHER

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If ever I could live as a gardener who grow flowers,
Roses; red as blood in us that defines our pedigree,
With radiant buds dancing in the breeze,
I will be a demi-love God, giving them wings,
Amusing them with childhood stories,
How mother will bathe me in the morning,
Yet before noon dusty and at night fast asleep,
I will tell them how much softer were your lips,
Softer than a lover’s heart who kisses their round buds,
At the sight of their damsel's smiling face,
I will remind them how patiently I nursed them up,
Watering, protecting an' feeding them with love,
I will tell them my mom did more than that,
So much that they’ll be gripped tight by your awe,
Like a nerdy boyfriend’s first date flower grip,
So firm that their urge to fly in search  of you is unbearable,
I'll inspire them as tireless as you used to be,
To fly higher and travel to your abode,
They shall like drizzle fall on your rooftop,
And like I always did jump and run to hug you,
Remember? Whenever you return after a brief absence?
You will run outdoors, your head stretching up,
You will be baffled by which flower to clutch,
When thousands fall, burying you like a grave,
Nudging you with that love I always have for you,
Like a statoscope on your chest, I'll prick my ears,
Like my head used to rest while sucking milk,
I will hear you say, “I love you my son; I love you so much.”


If ever I could live as a gardener who grow flowers,
Who lovers visit to buy from and give out,
Being the reason why others feel fully loved,
I will only grow and sell my precious bouquets,
And make it the cheapest piece of nature,
To those who unfailingly every year gift
Their mothers, making them pay their homage to You!

As I come to pay mine with my poetry,
Mother, please accept this little appreciation,
Because I will never be able to pay worth the price,
That cost you to raise a son like me!

Penneed by;
©Anas Ɗansalma
10th May, 2020.
Location: Kano, Nigeria

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