Hands weary, she worked all day,
With a muted voice for the meager pay.
Tattered clothes with holes many,
Patched well so that none could see.
She cleaned, mopped and scrubbed the grime,
No time-off, holidays- it was considered a crime.
The cruel world treated her with a frosted heart,
But no hardships could ever tear her apart.
Her ailing mother though bed-ridden,
Her constant motivation was the source of inspiration.
She topped the exams,burning the midnight lamp,
In the dingy shanty that seemed very cramped.
She colored the world with her head held high,
Summers reigned in her life and all the winters did die.
Picture Credit : Pixabay