Superwoman Has a Dark Side

Finely cut crystal –
silver and gold –
sparkle and entice.
A table fit for royalty.

Savoury aromas evoke visions
of sumptuous gravy,
delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables,
and decadent desserts.

She’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, hungry
and bored with the waiting,
tug at her hem.

It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare,
then wait.

They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days,
fail to remark on the preparations

They’ll sit
be served
praise the deliciousness
gobble up seconds
push back their chairs
wander off
for a kip
or a smoke

and she’ll linger
picking at congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at a red wine stain
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
without bitching
without protesting
a trouper till the end

What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?

Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.

(This was originally penned a few years back, and I resubmitting it here, edited, for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday. Photo is courtesy of Deb Whittam as part of her prompt.)