To my struggling mother

When I love her, she shines for me, just me – a secret smile, hiding tears darkening her brown lashes, until they make her more beautiful than she was before she shined just for me, – a secret.

But I love her more, when her smile surrenders to her worrying brow, her bottom lip between front teeth too big for her, face cocked to one side, with her honey eyes staring out the window, harboring and deflecting fears she keeps secret, - just for me.

Oh, no, Love - an unsteady sigh escaped her painted on peace of mind, which scares me more than her softest sigh hitching, like she forgot to breathe in her desperation to keep the secrets swimming in her head, - just from me.

So, I reach out for her, my hand brushing her face, sweeping her bangs out of her honey eyes, which give my clues to my mother's cares set apart. Just me - a secret entrance. God, she’s shining again, and my tiny finger is moist, from one tear she could not hide from me. Just me – a secret.