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
Copyright © Molly Andrew | Year Posted 2016
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