Harrow

On her own
Five children at home,
Tireless work to feed and clothe.

Husband gone back,
The old country calling ~
Work to do at War's end.

Babes in diapers,
Laundry incessant,
A task she did not loathe.

All the yield
To each hungry mouth,
The garden she'd lovingly tend.

Up at dawn three times a week,
Forty loaves to bake ~
Sold for pennies at the side of the road.

For two years this went on,
Babes grew hungrier anon,
Pants she needed to mend.

The husband returned,
And with him the drink ~
Only adding to the load.

And still she had
The kindest heart,
The most generous, loving way.

A bond was built
Unique to each child,
Remembered to this day.

Kira Braun