Comments
Loading Dream Comments...
You must be logged in to write a comment - Log In
Artist
Thread of Our Days
She stitched our dresses
from cotton cloth,
love folded into every seam.
She taught far from home,
her Mandarin touched by Chicago winds,
her wages given back in kindness.
Not a teller of tales—
but present, so present,
with her cotton swabs
and our scabbed knees.
She carried our names like lanterns.
Now she whispers
she is ready
to go home.
