Lily sits alone, fighting shadows
under the shade of the pine tree.
She wore a tweed skirt today, looking sexy,
but her mom called her a slut and
pushed her down the staircase.
What a dangerous game she’s playing;
if she’s not careful, her own daughter
will end up dead, with a note that reads,
I wasn’t worth it
Mother’s Day came and went
No one called her
Not one of her daughters
What can she expect?
She hates.
So, call her wicked, call her selfish,
call her the problem,
And keep it going.
Lily sits alone
All these years later,
her husband beckons from the
doorway, but he’s not there
She doesn’t see him.
She’s still fighting shadows
under the shade of the pine tree.
