Granny's Hard Love

In the quiet house, the hunger grows,

A tale of need that nobody knows.

Granny sits with her sternest glare,

Her love wrapped in rules, her heart laid bare.

"Work first, then eat," she firmly states,

Ignoring the empty plate that waits.

I plead with her, my strength is low,

But she insists, "Toil helps you grow."

The energy’s gone, my limbs are weak,

A morsel of bread is all I seek.

Yet Granny stands, unyielding, still,

Her lessons forged from iron will.

Her past was hard, her struggles deep,

A life where work was food to reap.

But now her ways feel cold and cruel,

A heavy weight, an ancient rule.

Oh Granny, can't you see my plight?

The hunger dims my inner light.

I need your love, not just your lore,

To rise and work, I need much more.

But as the dawn begins to break,

I see her hands, they slightly shake.

She slides some food, her eyes turned down,

A fleeting smile replaces the frown.

Her lessons are tough, her love disguised,

But in her heart, compassion lies.

For Granny knows, though harsh she seems,

That love is more than labor's dreams.

Brian's Creative Quill