The old black and white photo
Sits on a shelf by the door
It's one of my dear mother
She's maybe sixteen, not a day more.
A stunning young woman
Just before she was married
She's looking away, small smile on her face
At what point did she become so old and so harried?
What takes its toll on such a sweet, smooth visage?
Perhaps a bad marriage and four kids to manage
But it ne'er crushed her spirit nor bowed her inner strength
She took what was dealt her and minimized the damage.
Her kids were her life, through thick and through thin
She loved and protected them, despite his dire anger
One by one the kids left and escaped the hostility
Then finally she left and escaped her own danger.
Now all that is left
Is the old photo on a shelf by the door
Of a stunning young woman
A small smile on her face, harried no more.
© ELR 2013