Sincerely seeking an original modern poem about maternal love requires delicate and touching brushwork and writing from a child's perspective. Thank you very much.

In the early morning, the crescent moon is still hanging askew on the treetops.

It's you, mom. Get up quietly and make breakfast.

When the first ray of sunshine climbed the surface of Shanghai

It's you, mom, who woke me up with a smile and bathed in the morning sunshine.

Who put the clothes neatly by my bed?

Who scooped up breakfast to cool it?

Who put the fried eggs in my bowl?

Who warmed the milk for me to drink?

Is that you, mom? Is this all because of you?

My first day in kindergarten

I never let go of my hand on the way to school.

Do you never feel sore and tired?

When I refused to cross the strange threshold, I held the familiar hand tightly.

Who shook my hand hard and abandoned me severely?

The back without looking back is so strange at the moment.

Do you rub your eyes from time to time, mom?

At dusk, you wait at the door early.

Have you been looking through the fence?

From fence to fence until you meet my eyes.

Is it you who is no longer standing?

Mom, you hold me tight.

The smell of happiness overflows from your hair.

Sweet all the way to the land under your feet.

Cook dinner when you get home.

Look at the pictures with me, play the piano with me and give me a bath.

Is that you, mom?

Until I fell asleep

The little hand is still in the warm hand of the big hand.

Mom, is that your hand?

Mom, is that you? !

___oooo, tired, created online, I hope you like it and adopt it. Reed without water ~