a mother's woes

she lingers at the window,
her fingers brush the pane
staring out into darkness
she misses her mary-jane
a tear escapes he weary eye
and travels down her cheek
she's been up for two days strait
her legs are tired and weak
She pries her eyes off the window
and she sits in her old wicker chair
lowers her head, brings her hands together
and utters a quiet prayer
'please bring her home safely
dont let her be led astray
if she doesnt come home tomorrow
i wont be able to wait another day"

Poetry by andrea
Read 887 times
Written on 2006-10-10 at 00:25

Tags Tomorrow  Pray  Wait 

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Kathy Lockhart
this is so well done. It rings so true. I know I had those days when my oldest son was younger and out running wild. Thank God we got through those years. I will never forget the anxiety, the almost pulling of my heart from my chest as I waited for him to come home. You have captured that feeling here.