Saturday, January 31, 2009

My Mother (English Sonnet)

Cigarette would burn and pile useless soil
Granting the earth broken dreams to recon
In ash of grays delivering her son
As sick as he is, she continued on
They count to three of the mouths they would feed
Children for hopes, ones that remind them of
The life she hand and him that cared for her
Leaving the hell they'll never need to scoff
One day, worse than any other it changed
She worked harder so to wait much longer
For the spring that would come through forgiveness
Calling God, praying for patience on her
In hopes by faith that they would all just learn
The family whose hearts can someday return

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