There Was a Young Mother

There was a young mother
Who saw she was invisible
As to another
She made her day divisible

Sometimes she was a clock
That was expected to respond
Her only chance to talk
Was to tell him what lay beyond

Her words fell on deaf ears
When she asked for a favor
And when she cooked, I fear
He pecked it and did not savor

Patiently, she listened
And smiled through his demands
And for him, love glistened
While with hands on hips, he stands

Who sees her sacrifice
Her unwashed hair and ponytail?
Her clock speeds up to twice
To be seen as dependable

Then, one day in a book
She saw what to all man enthralls
The pains unnamed hands took
To selflessly build cathedrals

In corners, everywhere
One may see each delicate carving
Though hands and arms did wear
For the credit, were they starving?

For God and not duty
They gave their all, in their prime time
They simply made beauty
That would not be done in their lifetime

Her dozen warm cupcakes
Her sleepless nights with a sick child
All the errands she makes
Will this raise a child that is mild?

If she's doing things right
The world will marvel at what she has built?
For now it's in God's sight
With Him, her efforts will not wilt

thoughts from Invisible Woman
author unknown