Her story

Her wrinkled face shows that she is old

But her weak eyes tell something that is never told

She remembers her childhood, her dolls, her friends, and her first book

Her dark blue school uniform and her mother’s lessons on how to cook

She did not understand why her parents made her quit school

Everyday her brothers attended their classes, and she watched as a fool

Days passed, months passed, and so did years

One day she went to her husband’s home while her mother shed tears

First she became a daughter, then a wife, and later a mother

She carried her life for her family, without much bother

She even sacrified her own desires and dreams

But is there anyone to listen what her heart screams?

She was overwhelmed when she gave birth to a baby boy

She taught him his first words, and bought him a toy

Today when she stands in a window looking somewhere

Air slowly combs strands of her gray hair

Unnoticeable tiny tear rolls down her chick

Now there are only memories to pick

Far away she sees a pipe throwing out unwanted white detergent foam

Just below her window hangs a building board that reads – women’s old age home