Time

Time Why is time so precious to my mother? I sit here Here on this old rickety porch White paint scabbing Looking at the dark clouds Dark clouds pouring their sadness Out onto the land I wonder What it would’ve been like If he hadn’t left If he hadn’t started a new life Mom always says ‘Pain and sadness turns to beauty’ But I don’t see it How can knowing your own father Left Didn’t want you Turn into beauty? I watch as the sun Peeks it’s head out from underneath the clouds How can the sun still shine bright When all I want to do Is curl up into a little ball And demand to know what I’ve done What I did to make him leave He left Left to start a new family And left me here To sit on this old, broken porch To watch the rain fall When his job was to stay