Hairpins
mother’s hairpins wait
patiently
in worn, loose clumps
for her to pick through and use
over and over, night after night
it seems to be the same
she, by the bathroom counter
day after day
twirling her fine, grey hair
around thin, frail fingers
and so expertly done, too
without a thought
her dim eyes stare
into a dim mirror that reflects
her lined, aging face
once young and beautiful
she creates curls
as she stands
alone
2/23/2022
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2022
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