She takes her child to the play ground
leans on the rusty broken gate
the lonesome mother
watches happy families – complete
she is different, she is cheated, she is
counting the years; the incessant footsteps leading
to struggle in a long and winding road -
drowning
she forces a smile and waves back at her little
one.
She feels her youth seeping through her fingers
falling with every dead strand of hair.
