She echoed in the dim light,
her straight black hair leaving memories,
as she walked with head tilted down
contemplating smaller beings
seldom noticed and appreciated.
Her hands cause a sensation,
wrapped as they are ,
around a basket filled to the brim
with poppies and snakes.
I think it is mostly the snakes.
She notices not the shadow
that follows her every step
the shape of her back
as loved as ever a back could be.