The Morning Routine
A poem
She sat by the window, looking out in disdain
It’s been a while and she missed the sun on her skin
So she put her hand out through the window,
In the hope, she could feel some sunlight
But her hands never made it to the light,
Yet, she gained some more despair to push the day...
She sat down on a corner of the floor, leaning backwards
The empty walls and the silence was all that there was
How long has it been? She didn’t seem to know
Her memories were fading, so was the idea of herself
She no longer knew the person she used to be,
But mumbled her name to herself, ‘Lisa’!
She was once a wife and probably a mother
She often dreams of a young boy calling her Mama
But why hasn’t he visited yet? she asked herself
“Maybe he’s too young or maybe he has a new mother”
Every time she thinks of her boy, she decides never again
And now it’s a part of her morning routine…
