Every morning coffee brewed at dawn
Always makes it just the way he likes
Then she goes to market every morn
Small old woman sits on big old bike
Sons she carried three and one survives
Lives with her in tiny wooden shack
Doesn’t think of other people’s lives
Much they have why dwell on what they lack
Family and food define her day
Cooking cleaning helping only son
Coffee sweet with milk his favourite way
Everyday her work for him is done
Love for three condensed to single man
Mother’s love as sweet as milk in can


Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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