1969 mothers view

1969

Up at the crack of dawn, pot on the stove,

Cigarette, hanging from her lower lip,

Awaiting the arrival of the morning shove,

Thirteen crew in all, aboard her ship,

Each one trying to gain any or all advantage,

Breakfast ready, she championed the large pot,

Soon they would run mid-morning rampage,

Fed, each in various bowls porridge for her lot,

For years most resented having to eat the gruel,

Not thinking, she was up each morning at the crack of dawn,

She made them eat it, forced it, seemingly cruel,

At times resentment for her set in, on faces she saw,

She knew she could have done better, more even,

She also knew she didn’t know how,

As long as it was better for them,

Without so many row’s,

Thirteen crew and all with different view’s,

Growing so fast it hurt her eyes,

So fast they had their own crews,

Prayed they would see, their captain tries,

Up each morning at the crack of dawn,

Fed each of us every morn,

We ran as far as we could, avoiding her glare,

How I wish we could have her now, here.