Making Ends Meet

I watched my mom, year after year, writing it down

Trying to get it right, night after night, trying to make

It right, searching each line, just trying to find,

A way to make a way, out of no way.

 

Her income so low, and stretched to a point,

Her nerves racked with worry,  what was to become of us,

A face so beautiful, but constricted with fear, her mind filled with woe,

Cause if her ends never meet, where will we go?

 

Working so hard, each day on her job, not lazy at all,

Taking good care of us, just doing her best, with what she had,

Not having enough,  deserving so much more, going without

Many times and again, while putting us first, just trying to win.

 

Win what, the battle that she fought each day, working so hard while making a way, trying to make a way, when there was no way. Trying to make ends meet,  dead tired on her feet, and doing it all over, again and again.

 

I watched my mom writing, in her little blue book, year after year, trying over and over, just to get it right, counting up the bills, as they piled up and up, but never once did she slip, or fade from the task, of trying to make  ends meet, cause she would look at us and smile, and I could see it in her eyes, that all she went through, was cause she loved us so.

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