Scribblings

Woman

I see her from a sister-less point of view.

My poor mother has put up with four sons.

Sometimes I have seen

With a fawn-like doe-eyed mysticism.

A lawmaker, Queen of order,

A savvy talker, completely undeciphered mystery.

Time and a hard wrangled drip of

Wisdom,

Has taught me

That,

 They are just like me,

Sometimes lost, sometimes on the right path.

This

Despite the lack of hair pulling childhood

Tussles,

Puts me at ease with my sisters.