Breadwinner
By Kiana Soriano
In twilight's embrace, my mother's hands crafted our meal,
Awaiting her beckon, I'd eagerly heed the call.
Father, a fleeting presence, seldom sought for sustenance,
Until he appeared, in his own time, a silent specter.
His lips brushed my mother's cheek, a fleeting connection,
A nod to acknowledge my presence, stoic and cold.
The room held its breath, suspended in anticipation,
As if awaiting the gentle descent of a fallen pin.
The meal scarcely touched, father would abruptly rise,
Lost in the glow of his buzzing device, back to his world.
After our repast, dishes abandoned for my mother's care,
I'd glimpse at her by the window, cradling her growing belly.
Each evening's exit marked by her silhouette,
Lost in thoughts, tracing dreams amidst the fading light.