My mother is a miser of emotion
She pinches out the pennies of expression
And measures out the modicum of pain
Beyond the allotted portion
Was an interest I could never gain

My mother is a miser of affection
Doled out sparsely and sparingly
As though too many hugs
Would tip the balance of her being

My mother is a miser
And woe betide her spendthrift daughter
Who’s very essence is cast about
Like pollen on the wind.