Today was my mother's birthday, so I made her a poem. This is the first draft, I probably add more later or edit it.
Titled: SUPERWOMEN: SHE DRIPS LOVE PT. 2
Her love is like a faucet,
it keeps pouring out and there’s no stopping it
—it continually drips to a tempo of her heartbeat.
Drip,
Drip,
Drip…
I love you…
drip,
drip…
I will provide for you…
drip,
drip…
you mean the world to me.
She is the faucet with pressure of water forming behind her eyes that cascades into tears.
Tears drip from her eye when times get hard without me knowing.
Sweat drips from her forehead as she tries to figure out how to make ends meet.
But she never lets me see her sweat or cry,
So I figure her SUPERWOMAN.
She can make things happen like magic,
When we were poor she made meals appear,
name brand clothes,
or whatever our hearts desired.
Wishing I could wash away her pain,
like the way she washed the dishes I never helped her with.
Broken faucets need repair just as hearts do,
but some things can’t be fixed as easily.
So she continues to drip,
despite her own inner drought…
she’ll keep giving until our cup overflows.
Overflowing with every sacrifice she has made for us.
She makes things happen like magic
I figure her SUPERWOMAN
because her faucet won’t stop dripping even when her heartbeat does…
