just writing

She awoke to the paper staring up at her
Never would she have imagined that today
would be the day
Dreams were granted
New journeys would begin
Smoking like a fiend at two am
Cough is rough
Lungs are heavy on the backside
Yet she carries on, she has a mission
to complete
By the lost hand of her Mother
She begins treading on their lives.
Thru the tears of their pain that
flow from pen to paper
Mother and writer finally meet.