Too many questions riddle the mind,
why a St Patrick's Day to define my wine
when I drink like a fish every day?

A marked day for mothers and women
when I give blood and flesh,
everything I own
as a homemaker or mother
every passing moment?

I feel like giving a birthday gift
to my beloved every day
but can't
people would think I am insane
and so would my man.

Because I don't want a house,
a car, diamond or gold,
people call me a fool
but I'm richer than billionaires
with peace in my humble being.

I craved only love from you
no worldly things
yet you gave me a gold castle
while oblivious to my joy or pain.

Life is confusing I know
as proven again and again,
yet
why is there a question mark
waiting to be inserted
when life stares in vain?