She was crying

“My sky’s leaked into my moon” she whimpered.

I knelt,

Tiny desk, acrylic paint

“It’s ruined!”

Her words describing my life

On my knees

By her paint pots.

“That’s OK”, I rallied

As mothers do.

“Sometimes the sky does that”

Silently I muse.

I pointed to a rosy sunset,

Capturing a family framed.

It was beautiful

When he took that shot,

When I wasn’t alone.

She brightened, cajoled,

“Really?”

I smiled painfully,

“Sometimes people’s skies do get smudged”

I nod…as always, hiding my tears.