She awoke with tired reservations. Stumbling out of bed. Her hair unkempt upon her head. She rushed through her ablutions, Scrubbing clean her face. While steadily picking up her pace. She made her way to the kitchen, To make breakfast for her child. The many plans for the day on her mind all the while. She cleaned, rearranged, dusted vacuumed. Washed clothes and mopped the floors. Hung damp laundry from the tops of the doors. She rushed through the isles of the grocery store. Banging her shin on the cart. Sat waiting in the rain, when the car wouldn't start. Once again she entered the kitchen, This time dinner to prepare. Then laid it out for her family with but to moments. She bathed her children, Read them a tale of make-believe. Smiled lovingly at her son as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. She laid awake late into the night, Checking locks on windows and doors. Listening attentively to her babe's gentle snores. She was not hired for this job. The pay is lousy at best. She works it nineteen hours a day, with very little rest. Her last vacation from her concerns, Was a year before her first was born. There between her smiles, her face looks a little worn. She understands time's unforgiving hand. As it marches by her steadily on, Her childhood, her adolescence, her youth, all of them gone. She weary, so weary at the end of the day. Never forgets to kneel in prayer. Her prayers for all, unselfish and aware. She, who is strength, and subtle frailty, Yet, she awakes, with tired reservations. And she continues on, until the next rising sun.
Reason for writing:
Dedicated to my mother, and all the mothers of the world who work and strive and give love to all those around them.
Birth sign: Libra
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Didi.