She sits down at the backyard entrance
Just for her mind to ponder
I know this
I have seen her eyes widen and cheek bones strain
She’s too little
The irony the words uphold
Since when did responsibilities have age.
She sits at the lone chair in the back
Just to forget her immediate act
Its peace she seeks for a minute
Yet to return home and act her responsibility
Only the back bone can tell the story
Pain a daily core, to neat everything
For they need to call it a home.
She sits at the tree trunk in the forest
Just to smile at nature and the whispers
After the stories told of the oldest tall creature
For its strength that she will learn
And to come home for a better work.
YOU ARE READING
Woman
شِعر'Woman' is a collection of poems that explores themes of love lust emancipation grief death loneliness and all about a she in my world.
