A Mother Cries Poem by Jerry Waterfields

I was once a strong woman
Able and fair. To the farm I would go
And produced my upkeep.

I had children, chirpy and fresh
On my corridor they played.
Their friends were summer roses.

I had friends, who I often spoke
To. They told me tales about their husbands
Childhood and other gossips

Look at me! I can not walk free;
Feel earth's air, look at the birds again.

Aids is a murderer, an orphaner
He creeps at night with a sickle
And harvests wails and losses.