ALSphere Foundation
My mother planted jasmine, just when I breezed in ‘n came into being
She patted the soil around its roots, similar to how she assured my well-being
She tended, staking trellis for it to climb on, wrapping it around as it grew,
Just the way she propped ‘n poised me, bracing me to bloom into view
The mulch ‘n manure of love, hope, dreams ‘n faith was heaped on both,
Moistened with drops of patience, she pruned the stray stems of rage ‘n loathe
The balmy, ambrosial fragrance bewitched ‘n beckoned bothersome pests
She softly deposed, dragged down such unsought, superfluous requests
Sometimes life bogged me down ‘n I forgot to fare ‘n bloom, just like the jasmine
Mother tempered us, her serene, still watch, made me ‘n jasmine, eternally sanguine
I burgeoned ‘n blossomed, akin to jasmine,
tasseled out in full swing
Loaded with florets of skill, spirit ‘n passion, pouring love from my very being
The jasmine sifted ‘n scoured many shores, morphing into whatnots
Bursting forth or withering old, its pneuma, the aroma was never lost
I too yearn to be like my mother’s favored climber, acclimate yet amour- propre
Sated ’n spirited inside whilst sprinkling smidgens of joyous fragrance all around!!
Glossary—
amour propre—a sense of one’s own worth; self-respect
