Three clothespins hanging from a rope,
sheets floating in the air,
scenting like hand-washed soap.
A warm plate on the table,
with the promise of refills,
of food that warms the soul.
A cane resting against the wall,
after a hard walk,
tired of such a long life.
A few wrinkles on the smile,
of war, immigration, and hope,
with much unconditional love.