The red pink space upon his cheeks.
Heavens grant me this child,
Angels called, making me see.
How beautiful this baby boy is to me.
I see his face, round and cute.
20 little teeth start to dress in a suite.
Hair growing fast and brave.
No doubt, his Grandma’s brown tone.
This only made me love him more.

Every day when the day turns dark.
A little cup of wine helps me fall into black.
That’s when his father looks in the crib,
A man of honesty, pure love and luck.
I don’t have to worry, just fall asleep on the couch.
Next day, I see the blush.
My boy smiles, widening his father’s eyes.

When I go for a walk, I hear them speak.
Nasty, harsh voices,
Ring in my ear.

“Only woman in the world,
Who won’t see the truth,
That the blush is a bruise.”