8th of May

Take us to the place where cries turn to laughters,
Where piano keys strides on the silvery ponds,
Longer than the breathe of the trees in autumn,
Deeper than the blue sea of old...

Thats the buried treasures, of old sailors,
Not the gold, but the ones that remains buried,
The ones which remain buried though found,
Alas the one piece, of all spanish gold pieces, the thing call love.

Many still search out for their share,
Many found their share,
I found it not far from home,
But near to me by my side, my shadow, my mum.

She may not be the most shiny pieces,
But she is the most valuable buried piece i will always keep,
No matter how far the apple fall,
It'll never fall far from home.

So dear ma.

Happy Mothers Day