Hair as bright as sparks from a burnt sienna flame, reaching for the stars above

Eyes, deep set emeralds: warm and kind, full of love and home, flickering with

mischief and wit

Lips painted as pink and juvenile as two creamy rose petals, pursed elegantly to a plump heart

Her cheeks as sweet and round as dollops of rosy frosting

A voracious learner,

eager to know everything she can about parenthood

Social, amiable, put together, and pleasant… is what she prays people make of this

struggling single mother

Her lines of joy lay lightly etched on her face, a sign that

simpler times existed

A working mom, her feathery hair is chopped short - practical rather than the most aesthetic

Despite her efforts, a deep pit of disappointment and longing is

engrained like iron to her soul

Incarcerated: a prisoner to her life - feeling like a sick game she’ll never

be liberated or succored from

One day Mama Bird will get rewarded for her valiant efforts

Her kids will grow up and make lives for themselves

returning

the astonishing endeavors of

Motherhood