Gasping, in search of her child, she awakes through the minutes of night. While others lay lightly on their cotton-plush-pillow, she ponders the meaning of life.
A hand on her slender ribs; her eyes squinting to see if the chest of her child still performs the way that it should. She accepts what will come, but would certainly modify details she could.
The path has been beat; her feet drastically scorned from the road left behind and ahead. Reality creeps, as the sound of the crack, when she fearfully rises from bed.
The commencement each day seems an ending instead. She is countlessly last. She fasts, but her children are contentedly fed.
Folding the pleats in the crumpled-up sheets, as the wrinkles continue to form. She advances with caution; a crowbar of metal withstanding a treacherous storm.
Easing the life of all others, her strength will soon carry her through. Her heart remains hidden, but her love it is pure, it is proof.
A crisp smelling blanket covers their souls as she washes away all the dirt from her toes.
The table is set, and the dinner is served to the liking of each one around. She collects dirty plates and removes every sprinkled splatter and crumb from the ground.
For now, she provides for her loved ones a better tomorrow; despite the struggle she faces today. No crutch, no limp, no challenge too grand, can kidnap her cape away!
The mornings will brighten, the nights might grow calm. She could cave, but she’s a fighter, she’s an angel and a mom.