Cotton

 

Red specks smudge her palm

As she wrings her living,

In small clumps of cotton,

Her hands young and aching.

Her wages pocketed

Hands gripping cotton

For comfort. She walks,

Eyes forward, hips swaying.

Red bricked storefront

Whites only diners

Step by step, she

Leaves cotton behind

Towards her heart desire.

Shiny black haired chauffeur

Baby bump beneath cotton

   Blue wedding dress

Hands stitching, pulling,

Turning cotton into tiny

Pink and blue onesies

A new living for her