We lived in shoeboxes
Where the full moon didn’t show
Jerked beneath blankets and the night
Waiting for the snow.
Mother sewed for coins
Through squinted eyes, blind tears
When she slept we added more stitches
Embroidered in our fears.
It was always winter
In our tile of world caught in the pane
We taught the babies how to pray
The stories kept us sane.
One day the stitching stopped
Why was she crying, we didn’t know
I cannot see. She could not see
So we waited for the snow.