Her WorriesA Poem by reflectingusWith the gentle touch of age, she worried, day by day The smudged wrinkles sharpened, her legs felt weak Her graying hair piled in loops on her wooden chair Her eyesight drew sighs of unease
"Tell me", she pondered to her young son "Tell me, will I ever be beautiful, if I was ever to be
so?" "Ma" he answered, "You are too beautiful to ever
be more"
Her back stooped, though it wasn't quite the age She resigned to the melodies of the nightingale in her terrace. She lived, worrying about her figure She exhausted her mind with her frantic endeavors
"Tell me", she pondered to her young son "Tell me, have I grown too old to understand this new
world?" "Ma" he answered, "You are grown enough to engulf
the world with your wisdom"
As days flew, her insecurities grew: Nailpaint, fancy clothes- nothing could change her mind Her mind diluted to soft slivers of grief As she mourned the past, missed her youthful self
Her obsession progressed to frenzy, as she worried more and more But her son continued his chant, "You are beautiful, ma. The most beautiful person, for
me"
--- Unfortunately, she died an unconvinced, early death Unaware that her son's love made her beautiful So she died, unknowingly wrapped in his love In the world that shrunk her morale. © 2012 reflectingusAuthor's Note
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Added on August 16, 2012Last Updated on December 2, 2012 Author
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