I looked the skies above, one night.
And after appreciating those tiny dusts up,
I dreamt that sooner or later she’ll realize,
that she is so brave in her every fight.
I looked at her and I started to wonder,
then I cried because I feel her love in mine.
I asked her why she’s so dynamic,
“As long as you’re breathing, I’ll fight”.
For every dwell she’s into
I feel so damn proud,
For I am made by her body, and formed by her love.
Poetically speaking, she embroidered me with the most beautiful and splendid colors of life.
That’s why my goal is to reward her for all the wins she got,
and cheer her up for all the loses—to bring her confidence back.
I am her daughter, the reason of her agony and smiles.
She is my mother, the one who keeps me fighting in every point of my life.
The one who taught me to fly.
She is a woman, the person whom Jesus chose to be my mother.
A woman who chose to be my soldier.