Mother's love

Image source

Face burnt with sun, wrinkled with worries,
Hands stiff with labour, swollen and black,
She's peeling an orange, she rushes and hurries,
And all of that with you on her back.

She squeezes that orange, another soon after,
To quench someone's thirst for a peso or two,
And she's doing it all with smiles and with laughter,
Because she's doing it all for you.

Know this, wawita, when you're all grown,
Fighting your battles all on your own,
Losing one and happily winning another,

You wouldn't be able to manage that ever,
Without the sacrifice and the endeavour
Of your dearest and loving mother.

The poem is my original work.

Photo was taken by Rodrigo Ramirez.