A well oiled machine when the morning comes
A stretch, a run and into the world of pots and pans
Then her voice serves as an alarm
To the sleeping souls that still lingers in dreamland

A mother when she smiles down at the little angel
Till she bids goodbye with a kiss on the forehead
As the breeze comes to greet her during her commute
She climbs on its wings and drift to a limbo.

As she turn the corner, another mask is in place.
A polite smile, alert eyes and soothing words.
The mask chokes her, causing tears to well up in her eyes
But it must be worn, for its an armour that shields her soul.

As the sun bids goodbye to the sky,
She becomes a body to warm the bed.
And when darkness lures all souls to sleep.
She stays awake , searching for that lost piece,among the broken shards of her heart.