Existence

The rising sun is when mom blossoms

from the bud that contains her sorrows

She hops around the kitchen with problems

of yesterday crashing with tomorrow’s

Spritely, as the nature outside the window

she looks out that keeps her motivated

Notices sun’s rays setting in pillows

of gorgeous colors that inebriate

her soul as she works without tiring

As the grass wilts and the sun vanishes

she limps, pain shoots up her back igniting

the last spark of happiness as she glances

at the blaze that walks through the door smiling:

Dad, she is happy for today which enhances

feelings of work looking at the clean ground

Feet are shaky as she stumbles up stairs,

the soles of her feet covered in calluses formed

with the strain of the day’s work on her body

Yet she’s satisfied as she goes to sleep

to wake to a new day as somebody.