My mother’s nuggets,
They chauffeur her day,
They armour her journey,
They lace her path.
They pervade her room,
In her chamber, they bloom,
She sings their praises,
She basks in their ambiance.
They accompany her in their company,
They buoy her boat,
In tempest, she stays afloat,
They trestle the bridge across ridges.
They’re her windows to view the outside,
They bring light to her inside,
They take the wheel,
They aid her up the hill.
Thompson Emate spends his leisure time on creative writing, particularly poetry and prose. He has a deep love for nature and the arts. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.