While I was busy with other things
for 18 years or 21 or 36,
my mother was steadily bending
like the stem of a tulip
toward whatever source of light
she could find
and still remain in her vase.
Prompts: NaPoWriMo (a flower), Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (women, women’s rights, women’s freedom), and Poetic Asides (a doodle — if you’re curious, ask me in the comments and I’ll tell you how I think this qualifies).