We should bow on mothers feet as she is the precious gift
This poem is about the very night, which remind me the punishment of the hell.
There are few things in this world more inspiring than the simple emotion, and act of love. People have died for it, poets and musicians have made careers from it, entire books can't invoke enough....
I want to cry when I realize in what time I live. In time where most of people are 'cold' and have forgotten the power of pen.