She comes in the door her chores to resume
puts parcels down and removes her hijab
mother calls - come help her to the washroom -
grateful for the daughter with life so drab.
Twenty years dutiful to her parents
no more hope for family or husband
her hand no longer has any claimants
aging folks are far less than she bargained
she holds mom’s walker and thinks of her beau
hastens to forget - if they ever knew
her utter shame would hit a rock hard blow
and likely as not her life would be through
so she puts him out of mind with a sigh
contented for now the stones do not fly.