Tender Labor

Soft hands find no toys to play Soiled fingers draw doll’s face crude On tarnished soil dry, Lean body hasn’t felt the mellow touch Of the first rains of summer Tiny life is drenched by the dripping drops of tear, Pensive eyes see no colors in the fallen sky Looks at flowing sweat on mother’s pale face Draining her age before time. She a girl of tender thirteen Doesn’t know when the sun rises For when her mother goes out for work Sleep still clasping her cold eyes She holds her frail hands The only security she knows The only hope she clutches, Doesn’t know what childhood is As she labors with her mother Washing and cleaning in households Days in and days out For in her mind broken by hard times The dreams of a child have already died. April 2, 2018.