My Samurai

She is a waif of a woman exuding the scent of a lion.

An omen of fumes with the breath of a dragon.

She feeds the fat samurai pork, rice and vegetables.

Feeds her family from dawn to dusk a diet of rich, golden

The eggs are the dreams from the chromosomes they share.

The ride of lifetime success was always her dream.

She rode the highs and lows with equal ferocity.

Nothing but death could stop this course of longevity.

Despite the greatest obstacle of secondhand love;

She endured the great divide of lonely tears.

All alone to bring her troops to completion.

Precious minds to fill with hopes and dreams.

A maternal mantel could build this tower.

The tower herself and her lonely marriage.

It was an epic dream that only love could sustain.

Hardship will keep us on the ship that wants to quit.

Disappointment only comes to those who quit.

The samurai took it all with a grain of salt.

She took the cards and made a blasted tower.

Stacked the deck and beat the opposition.

A samurai never quits until he wins or loses.

In a samurai battle there is only one winner.

To fight with all their strength within.

No shame exists as they engage to get the win.

When I see their size next to hers she is the same as them.

Despite her epic smallness and their epic size, they are both 
the same.

A maiden had a dream to have her children be as strong as 
A samurais.

--Teresa R., Adult