z

i looked out

of my bedroom window

just like that

i sat there in silence

leisurely

my mind vacant

my eyes staring

at the same spot

suddenly i saw

the leaves dancing

to the tunes of the wind

i realized

the leisure break was over

imagination poured in

and there

i discovered myself

with a pen in my hand…

 

 

 

the glass in my hand

there i do it again

what i told me I wouldn’t million times
last time
i promised be the last
when i touched  this glass of wine

no i feel no shame
here i hold the damn glass again
for with the shining glass in my hand
fade away my shades of pain

pain that brings me
to the world real
in which, you are no more
its just me that’s left
grieved, heartsore

am i a mother any less?

z

privileges, i got none

deprived of life

scarcity, my only bid

my face not flawless

the scent of my body

disturbing, unpleasant

in the name of luxury

i only have my lap to offer

in the name of cuisines

i got bread tasteless

i am his comfort car

in my arms

i take him places

every night

as i watch him sleeping

i ask myself

for my offerings meagre

the fact that i am poor

am i a mother any less?