There are mornings I wake up tired.
When the busyness of life has consumed me even in my dreams.
I come to you quietly with exhausted heart and give you my very last coins.
of little worth.
There are many ways in which to spend the last I have to give.
But, when I lay it silently before Your feet, I hear the tired echoes of other women through generations.
Mothers, clutching scuffed dreams.
And I know,
I am not alone.
When all I have, is all I give,
it is enough.