Friday, 27 July 2012

The Cookie Jar

She is broken
Bones, her blood is not her own
Hands shake  uneasily as
She drops the tea she
Makes for everybody but
Herself to sit with feet up
The stairs running to fulfill
The desires and whims
It is my God given duty she beams
As she cleans and educates
And reinstates
There is no one worthy
Of worship except God
To her little ones as they sleep
So for every kiss on the knee
Advice given gently
When fingers stroked
My hair and 6 year old ego
Gosh you look so pretty
Aren't you ever so clever
I do not endeavor to offer thanks
For anything other
Than you being the means
Through which God guided me
For there is no greater wisdom
Than knowing the purpose
of your existence

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