The Woman I Miss and Never Met

For my grandmother who died one day after my birth, may my grandma Reyes rest in peace.

The soft brown eyes,

The thick black hair;

The gentle carress,

The motherly air.

 

The tongue that spoke Spanish,

In a city far west;

And clung to the saying of

"Mother knows best."

 

The hardworking hands,

The wrinkles on a young face;

Hoping her babies

Will go to the right place.

 

The angel of love,

In an itty-bitty shack;

Wondering when (or if)

Her husband will ever come back.

 

The mother of all,

If only eleven;

Now peacefully rests,

In a kingdom called Heaven.

Author's Note

When I wrote "the mother of all", I was speaking of how everyone else called her mother.