A Mother's Concern

Mrs.Daisy in her green and pink overcoat
flip-flopped on the worn out carpet
in the living-cum-dinning area
of her studio apartment.
She paused at the half-broken shabby window
and looked out at the creaky
black wooden gate.
Sausages and salmon fry
and a week old dinner rolls
lay on the metal-edged dinning table
waiting to be relished
by the owners
of the flea market Corning Ware.
The odd looking dangling wind climes
were attached to the cheap but fancy
clock on the breached wall
which read the time 12 o’clock.
Her daughter, Betty
worked late again
in SC Johnson’s and co.