Momma, Momma

Hands grip grass
As tiny bugs play with long brown strands
Dew dampens jeans underneath
Dragging her deep into dirt

She gazes into bright blue skies
While memories play across clouds
Simplicity comes to mind
And her thoughts fall to days of innocence

Tightly closing eyes
She drifts to times where there was no work, school, daycare
Times where money seemed to grow on trees
Times where she could play in mud
Without having to pay for it

Now, a young twenty-one
Many responsibilities drown her
Dragging her deeper into dirt
As she struggles hard to pull herself out

Tears slide down tan skin, smearing makeup
Dropping like bombs on earth
Memories above turn dark
And the sky cries too
Washing off dirt that holds her down

Light appears, beckoning her
Momma, momma, it calls her
She sits,
Ruining bugs play time
Dusting off problems, water
She stands, walks

Bright blue eyes form in the clearing
Momma, momma
Tiny, soft hands break through
Force her back to reality
Momma momma,
Time to wake up



young motherhood has its up and downs.

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