The modern mother

At dawn we have trodden
The very same path
But she overtakes me
In a race like a girl.

Proudly she sits down
Crosswise on chair.
She helps fashion the weapons
For country and bread.

Her hair has grown silver
From years and distress
Her sons are all serving
In the armed forces.

Her Joey's a pilot
A hero, renowned
And Jake has been shipped
Somewhere half round the world.

The mother is sitting
With basket on lap
The place from which children
Came forth in the past.

Her face is a mask.
Her eyes only glow.
At night on her pillow
Her tears burn and flow.

Her dreams she's postponed
To the time that will come.
Her life now is painted
On new, empty pages.

She holds an essential
Factory job,
She offers her all
For America's fortunes.

She stitches with needle
And pounds with her hammer.
At nightfall she hurries
Back home to her housing.

Maybe a letter
Or two will be waiting
Then her eyes will rekindle
Like flowers revived.