• _tashi_ 3w

    Soiled hands,
    Sunburned skin,
    Nails eaten by dirt and pebbles,
    Wrinkled face,
    She's never tired,
    Fields with rich vegetation is her pride,
    Profanity flowing from her mouth,
    The lips never curved.
    Her eyes speak determination but are mistaken for rage.
    There is a warmness hidden in her curt voice
    And worries in her weak eyes.


    I call her my mom.


    ©_tashi_