Just Is

A lady, aunty, wife, my mother with a heart softer than cotton built with a shiny armour to defend, fight and survive She has lost so many a times falling to grounds over and over she had witnessed her nursery fade oh, how broken she must be Yet, she smiles and the grounds changes. it becomes her field she then prunes all to her liking becoming the queen of gardeners She is not rare she is not a gem she is she and she is the only she.