Scrubbing at the day’s dirty dishes
Her wrinkled fingers and
chipped red nail polish.
I know she’s tired,
Way before she goes to bed,
But there’s almost no time
to rest.
Just a sigh and her saying,
"tengo mucho que hacer."
She has lost count of the dresses she has made
And the children that she has cared for.
I have lost count of how many times
I held her hand
Weathered hand
That I don’t want from my memory to fade.
--Yeiri F., Adult