Mom always say;
"Son, all will be better ".
But we keep on getting robbed,
When all we want is to get better.
A project struck us like a tossed spear,
We started a fight,
Breaking its legs and hands,
Things went back to normal,
Mom moves with joy,
Cooking with prodigious happiness.
In a blink of an eye,
The grim reaper sauntered in,
Putting on a cheerful smile,
Clinging onto mom's side,
Seeking her hands on an eternal trip,
To the domicile of my ancestors.
Now I'm alone in my dark room,
Awaiting mom's arrivals.
©goodluck
G