She Continues

By Roslyn Rochanmawi Buhril
Brought  forth in silent obscurity…
No minstrel could match,
The lullaby the summer rain accompanies.
The toils and labours woven in every lines and creases
Of the fine, time weathered face.
The hard rough hands, that tended
And procure, the bloom of riotous gay hues
Of childhood and youth.
With heartfelt prayers showered upon,
From the womb to the path we part,
She continues…
The humour  and hope go on
Amidst tumultuous days that doth not halt.
Conquer the world we might,
But still a child we are..
Much she has endured and much she has overcome.
The heart does not weaken a bit,
With all the years that had gone.
“ Twas but like just yesterday” said she.
The mite of my youth, does not compare a trifle
To the might of this aged sage.
Wisdom perennial, she acquires
From the pages of her life, and the Book.
Her bosom  does not dry with withered skin,
For child of struggle she always has been.
With the enlivening  hands she has been bestowed with,
She continues..
And afresh with life, she will continue…