Like Her Mother's Mother Use To:

It's February, the third

The breeze shifts

Bringing with it the smell of clams

Salt water and particles of white sand

The Bay stands stretched out wide, low tide at 2:05

A frail woman, graying hair falling limply

Curving her face like a painting would

She's thin, far too

Her hair long, tangled wet in knots

Down from its tips, up to it's roots

Her glassy eyes a light shock of blue

They pale with age, swim with pain

As her smile lines deepen

Her history rings loud

Clear, like the boom of fireworks

Bruises under her eyes

Black and blue finger tips from the endless test strips

She no longer can sleep well

Soft hands, wrinkled with time

If she minds, it doesn't show

Her daughter, twenty-three years old

Home from her office in New York

Combs her hair

Long strokes gentle and firm

Careful not to tug

Still the locks fall, land silently on her mothers bedroom floor

She smiles fondly as mirrors reflection shows bliss

It's the little things that matter

In the end that's what everybody remembers

Or so says her mother's mother, so, so said she,

And now, I

The woman's hand wind together as her eyes fall closed

Her chest, rises then falls

Lips part, body exhales comfortably into the wooden chair

Her daughter leaves, silently

But tucks a blanket up over her mothers ears

Like her mother's mother use to do for her

So, so had she

And now, I