Could be nothing more
nothing less should I say
more of a hurt that lingers.
a wound that percolates
deep and deep into the levels.
harping and meandering
through corners and paths
causing a jolt and a freeze
feel life is almost over.
Days go by the remnants
disseminate but the residue
surfaces on and off bringing
tears. an unthankful job
whatsoever. a mother feels
as she grows in years.
recollecting the days she worked
persuading her child to remain atop.
Well, he might consider it is a routine
any mother would offer, forgetting
how most leave the children to fend
for themselves. happening at present
in his own home.
Meenas Poems 