my mother is
breaking down,
stitch by stitch,
she becomes less of the woman i knew her to be.
last night
i saw her cry
the way i do in secret.
puffy eyed
red nosed
sorrow.
i thought
she was made of
ash and gold.
strong,
my mother.
i thought
my mother never cracked.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/44449342-288-k540470.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
Mother's Winter
my mother is
breaking down,
stitch by stitch,
she becomes less of the woman i knew her to be.
last night
i saw her cry
the way i do in secret.
puffy eyed
red nosed
sorrow.
i thought
she was made of
ash and gold.
strong,
my mother.
i thought
my mother never cracked.