was born in a small broken house at the edge of the village.
We were poor. Very poor.
My mother used to work in other people's homes. She washed dishes, cleaned floors, and came back every night with tired eyes but a soft smile.
She always said,
"One day, you will study and become a big man. Then no one will call us poor."
I didn't understand her pain when I was small.
But I remember how she skipped meals and told me she wasn't hungry.
I remember how she sold her only gold earring to buy my school books.
Then one rainy night, she became very sick.
We didn't have money for a big hospital.
I held her hand in our small room while rain fell outside.
She looked at me and whispered,
"Don't stop studying… promise me."
That was the last thing she said.
Now the house feels empty.
There is no warm food waiting for me.
No one calls my name in the morning.
But every night, I look at the sky.
I believe my mother lives among the stars.
Watching me.
Waiting for the day I become the man she dreamed of.
And even if I am poor…
I am rich with her love. 🌙