For her!

A powerful woman though frail in frame, what can I call her? u give her a name!

A maze of thoughts and emotions, is she, she feels many things at once and yet her demeanour never reveals,

Decades of life she has seen, with its twists and turns, some bizarre, some real,

Her spirit was bruised, beaten and broken, yet she reminded herself, she was broken for a reason.

She is beneath all the layers of let-downs, heartache, expectations and fears,

Revealing herself to none, sheilding her sorrows, she cannot let her guard down

Inside they stay, all bottled up, clogging her Soul, threatening to get her down,

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

She has often wondered what dreams and desires are made of, for she cannot seem to remember her own.

Dreams she has seen for those around, her own dreams?!... well they don't seem to count,

Look deeper, those lines she calls wrinkles have stories to tell,

Of a life less ordinary, lived with extraordinary courage,

Death, birth, union, discord, insult, hurt, love, laughter, tears,

Yes! those wrinkles have stories to tell

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

Grey hair playing hide n' seek remind her of the times gone by,

Carefree days of childhood, food on the table, friends in the park,

Summer hols, Enid Blytons and playing after dark

Country music, a game of darts, jaunts after dinner, chocolates and tarts,

Those days were of Peace, of finding Joy in things small,

Of cosy banter with friends, neighbours et al,

those days of yore, shall never come back, those days she does not want 'em back anymore,

what she longs for is the Joy, the Peace, the Carefreeness that her days now seek,

Would she wish upon a star for a life different?

would things have been better, if Life gave a second chance?

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines seem to speak of a story - real not fiction,

Those thin lines etched deep speak of a silent resilience and a steely resolve,

Yet at the sight of her Man and her brood, the resolve, dissolves.

Her brood is hers, her identity, she sees her Self in them,

yet there are days of doubt and despair, when losing her own identity, she feels that their lives have no room for her,

She fears that she hasn't done much for them, no contributions, no tall claims in building their lives,

Franctically she searches for traces of her share in their growing up... disappointed to know that there isn't much she did>

Not realising that her Presence, just her presence always healed, always mended, always reassured...yesterday.. today ..tomorrow...everyday

Dark circles around bright eyes are witness to the sights she has seen,
They are much like the outline of her life, Bolder and darker and deeper with each passing day,

The mirror smiles at her reflection, the lines speak HER story - real not fiction,

The story of a young girl, who blossomed into Womanhood albeit, prematurely,

Whose wisdom and counsel are much sought, a wisdom gained having experienced things rare,

Whose kindness and benevolence are praised sky high, but these virtues she gathered in her ordinary life,

Patience, compassion, goodness and grace , " an attached detachment " her Life's phrase

Now She speaks to her Self in confident voice, she will fight the fight, she will not give in.

A powerful woman though frail in frame, what can I call her? u give her a name!

She smiles at the Mirror, assured and strong, knowing that Surely God could not go wrong.