Mom Life

Hair tied up in a messy bun

Sweat pants stained from children’s fun

battles lost and slamming doors

Laundry mountains, sticky floors

The vacuum hums, the dishes clink

Coffee cold before she can drink

Her hands smell faintly of lemon and soap

But in her chest lives a flicker of hope

She remembers a girl with painted lips

Dreams of endless uncharted trips

Now most days vanish in spills and chores

All the while wishing for more

More than the lists, the bills to meet

The half‑eaten toast, the aching feet

She sees a fighter, a love that’s pure

A heart that quietly dares to endure

For now, with a sigh, she turns from the glass

Her dreams on hold, but not yet past.