Headwind: A poem 

I had blueberries for breakfast 

And swore it would be my day’s last 

Decided not to have dinner 

In harmless resolutions, there are no sinners 

But, of course, sacrifice is exceptional 

A mother watching her children play ball 

The backburner is on the kitchen table 

I know, like her, I’m capable 

The glory may be mute 

But the cause is the root 

My aspirations are ashes at my feet 

I have headwinds to meet 

I can grow old, but not be sold 

That’s the grace of the story untold 

I am protagonist, so is my mother 

like a heavy arrow, like a vector