a fallen angel...

A mother, a fallen angel...

Left in the woods, with her spawns...

Her right wing cut off, and none to lend a hand...

What of unholy treacheries thrown her to this Moore...?

Which of the deities got jealous of her little heaven...?

Or was it fate’s way to make her strong...?

Strong she became, for her tiddlers...

They were her, bow of a fiddler...

She made them her aim of life...

And thoughts of them were her knife...

With it, she made a shelter in those litter...

And came out of woods with such a glitter...

Now she has an aim in life and now she knows how to attain that...

Working her way against those odds, with the strength of her petite hands...

Stern in mind as not to cry, when she heard any filthy pry...

Her will made those kids be safe and no sadness engulfs their eyes...

Her skin may be the tint of coal, but her heart is of diamond gleam...

She can’t beat any nymphs in looks, but none could beat her beauty of mind...

With all that love and with all that will,

One day she’ll reclaim those glory hills...

PS: the picture is done by one of my best friends... Hazel Fernandez... Thanks to u hazel for such a wonderful art...