In the quiet kitchen

In the quiet kitchen she stands,
Dim light on the window,
Upon the drip dry pans
What is she trying to find?
Her place in life?
A man?
A kindred spirit
Who understands?
And the children run by
The woman with the stare,
Toys in hand,
Unaware or without
Care how their mother fares.
She was once a little girl
In a far away place,
Found by God in
His infinite grace.
But with this finger I
Think I could trace
The disappointment in
Her heart.
With my finger gentle
Upon her breast
I would start,
Slowly descending along
The ribs, and lower
Where the legs part.
Perhaps you think it
Crude or cruel?
Yet it's all a symbol,
And I, a fool.