Other
People ©

Poetry / Fiction /
Nonfiction / Visual Arts

Search


Menu

About

Issuu

Instagram

Submissions

Team

At the Sink

/ Gabriela Schnepp

Poetry — 1 min reading time

No. 1


My mother stands there at the sink, washing the dishes
That were used just minutes before.
And her hands go washing, washing,
As she stares at her reflection in the window.

She’s running towards a jungle,
While the sun licks at her mocha skin.
And they cry ‘Morena! Morena!’
As she laughs and tries to catch at birds the color of the rainbow.

She’s moving from a homeland,
A strange language on her lips.
And her dreams are larger than the moon and the earth,
More infinitely grand than the stars.

She’s walking down a street,
In the place where futures are made
And her passion runs hotter than the blood in her veins,
Yearning for a chance to be great.

But

My mother stands now at the sink, washing the dishes,
That I used just minutes before.
And her hands go washing, washing,
As she stares at her reflection in the window

And sees all those dreams fly away,
Just like jungle birds
The color of the rainbow.

< prev

next>