Mother
Everyone called my mother weak and frail.
They said she was useless and could not raise
Her children on her own. Not when all she
Ever did was sit by the window and
Waste all her days waiting for my father.
She could only barely read and write and
Her cooking and cleaning were just sub par.
She was the epitome of a low
Classed fisherman's daughter without a brain,
In no position to be a mother.
But she gave it her all and did raise us.
She could not read or write but did her best
To teach me what she knew and fill me with
The desire to learn more on my own
When she was done and could teach me no more.
Yes, her cooking and cleaning were sub par,
But she kept everything to our liking
And fed us off her plate when food was short.
Her heart was broken and she was alone
But she proved to me how strong a woman
Could be. How despite everyone being
Against her, she ignored them and pushed on.
She loved when they gave her no reason to.
My mother was not weak. Nor was she frail.
She was just a woman doing her best.
YOU ARE READING
The Little Crow
General Fiction|| Everything changes when you fall in love with the enemy. || When General Niall Killian, a high ranked prodigy, recruits the newly graduated Thea Rhaanan to work for him, his hope is that she will be the key to unlocking incredibly valuable inform...
