poetry

Wifey Sandwich

Sometimes I feel like a sandwich made with no nutrition for me

Grains carefully prepared for dying mother and thriving toddler

Best greens, tomatoes, onions,  sour pickles set me free

I remember spending my days as a dawdler

Smile recalls what’s owed surviving elder, our lamb

Sacrifices, tears, cheers, shaped me; this legacy

Laughing toddler, hands elder a cracker, modeling who I am

Knowing one day we’ll switch roles, identity

Pondering ways of dealing with duty due love

On my knees praying for strength and acceptance

Chills up my arms receiving messages from above

Spiritual gifts of energy, susceptance

©2018, E.R. Smith

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