A Traveller’s Song
Threads in an affectionate mother’s hands,
Are the clothes on a son who’s going away.
Finer and finer she puts her stitches before he leaves,
For fear his return may run into long delay.
Our heart, tiny as an inch-long blade of grass,
Who says the sunshine of spring it can repay?
* The sunshine of spring: this is a metaphor, the sunshine of spring to a blade of grass
is like motherly love to a son that can never be adequately repaid.