Tuesday, June 16, 2015


Her skin was brown 
From working in the sun 
More than she should have 

Her fingers were calloused 
From the dirty dishes 
She had to wash daily 
Her hair which had begun greying 
Near her temples, were thin and limp 
She no longer had time to pamper herself 

Her hands were bony and firm 
No longer gentle and supple
Her belly had silvery stretch marks
From the life that she had carried inside 

There were wrinkles beginning to form 
At the deepmost corner of her eyes 
The smell of sweat permeated from her pores
Clinging on to her like a second skin

But for the little boy who had grown up 
Calling her Ma, she was the most 
Beautiful woman he had ever seen 
And she truly was, breathtakingly so
Like a verse of mesmerizing poetry 


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