Mother In Fourteen Lines

Your life was written before you lived it.

No escape from toil, they knew no better.

Like it was not their fault.

But it was.

Too young to know your mother’s face

before she was wrenched away

with your unborn sister.

But there it was.

No father to care for you, except with money.

Just aunties, the way it was back then.

Did Charlie weep for her?

Did you become a rebel from them?

A woman child, with a man always scheming for the greener grass,

that was never greener. And then you were gone too.

I wish we had known each other

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s