Photo by Jimmy Dean on Unsplash
A father loves his children
just like fire loves wood,
he gives them purpose
while burning them down.
How much it hurts,
wood can’t say
they achieved what they were born for
and that is all that matters.
A mother loves her children
like moonlight in the night sky.
It’s there as long as it is,
then it’s just a facade of glow
and reflection of light
there so poetry could be written
on its glorious sight.



Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.