Mom

for Gigi Lorico

She loves how your hair coils

and sticks to the skin

of your sweaty nape,

forming intricate patterns

of rings and waves.

Your skin, pale and soft,

Reminding her of the clouds you watch

drifting across the skies,

like how dreams move to and fro your mind.

Dreams not only of gold and mansions

And other worldly possessions,

But of greener pastures, clear streams;

A peaceful scene.

Dreams; things you were once hopeful for,

But wistfully passed along to her

All through the toil

Of sapping pellets of sweat

from your skin,

on your nape,

below your scruffy bun,

now visible to her eyes.