The Warmth of a Star

Painting by Victor Nizovtsev

My mother was once; an enormous star in a pile of suns.

A glimpse of warmth, lights, and slightly balmy.

Or maybe — just maybe, those are just my theory.

But one thing for all,

My mother has always been a producer; of warm kisses for my days and nights.

Sore and bore, oh she bears it all.

Her love is eternity —

But I, might be the sorrow of all the gods above the region been planning for.

But oh, she bear it all and love me more.