The Crying Woman

The sky is slowly turning orange,

As I wake up shaking,

To the voice of my mother crying,

I brace myself in seconds,

To face the reality,

Of what makes my mother so sad,

In the morning that she is crying.

Only to find out that she isn’t.

Then who was the woman,

Who needed to be consoled,

And where do I find her,

Now that I’ve woken up?

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