Mother

Her hair was like the night,

Long and dark.

When braided it hung past her waist.

Her eyes gleamed and twinkled

like stars that lit up the evening sky.

She was tall and her cheek bones

were pronounced as if carved out

by Rodin.

She was our comforter and always

in command, the willow sticks the

enforcer.

At sunrise her song was heard throughout

her home, humming parts she had forgotten.

They were songs her ancestors carried

from the old country.

Endurance, skill and faith were hers.

She was a free spirit with her

poetry and stories that she wrote

long after others slept.

In time grandchildren filled her lap.

One could smell her coffee before arriving,

freshly brewed and steaming hot.

Her dumplings were incredible

Light and fluffy, desired by all.

In the sunset she left us to accept her

Crown in a higher kingdom.