His Mother
She yawns as she takes out each dart sharpens the tip and adds them back to pile.
This game has been going on for quite awhile.
She stretches as still she refuses to play.
Come what may.
Again he steps up and snatches the darts.
Posed he stands there a fine work of art.
Young still vibrant chest puffed in defiance.
Having gained so much except the ability to feel pride in self reliance.
His eyes bright as the day time skies.
She shakes her head still not understanding why.
She braces for the inevitable as sharp points fly.
Her hide tough from battling through lies.
Each dart hitting its mark
For although he lacks in self pride he doesnt lack in smarts.
She grimaces and takes each one not allowing eyes to meet.
He takes his seat.
She again gathers the sarcastic off handed remarks
The shots taken in the dark
Each black purple blue and red spotted dart.
She yawns and sharpens each one with care and returns them doing her part.
Taking her place solemn hurt filled rejection weighing down
Slumped shoulders and broken frown.
She remains on solid strength grown ground
Determined to love through it all til self pride through self reliance is found.
Again tonight she took in the bad and turned it around.
Giving of her feelings her heart giving her all without a sound.
Teaching through suffering that she will remain.
She has not left as each battle came.
She lived through lonely and breathed through pain.
Staying as close as she can.
Trying to help build pride within this man.
Copyright © Rose Henderson | Year Posted 2023
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