Your mom visits every morning,
at the same time, like clockwork.
Maybe itās convenienceā
the graveyard just so happens
to be ten minutes from her house,
five minutes from the grocery store.
Or maybe, she just wants to talk to you.
She never brings flowers;
she canāt stand the idea of replacing them.
So she brings only herself,
and her tears.
Oh, how she cries at your grave.
If someone did the math...