mother

Speed sets in at the daybreak,  When the lady steps into the kitchen.  The hands move faster than the bullet train,  As they slice through the veggies and chicken.  The cooker croons, not melodious though, And milk plays hides...

Colours eluded him, From the day he was born. Sound he did befriend From then on. He had only his mom, On whom he could lean on forever. He saw her with his ears, All through his life. Her anklets were his...