Apron full and heavy across her womb
Each corner grasped by aristocratic hands
From the orchard lattice through the garden gate
Her entrance insinuating a harvest song of Plenty

Emptying her apron cornucopia atop the table
Quietly singing her favorite lullabye
Though her childhood a million miles behind her
Sometimes it sweetly crawls back into her life

Sidesaddling the bench sorting and peeling
Satisfied by the abundance of her harvest
Singing and smiling recalling helping Mama
Working efficiently and diligently in her task

Reaching for the pan, her sleeve slides up
Revealing the wrist tattoo: 12818707
Bright blue eyes suddenly dimmed by her pain
Tears very slowly descending her cheeks

2000 poetheart

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