Beautiful

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