reverie on Orchard Street
she looks out her window at Chinatown
absent-mindedly pulling a long curly lock
from in front of her eyes to the top of her head
there’s a Steinway in the next room
warm wood floors, shelves plump with books
precious photos of her family
the photographs are the giveaway
so much history and joy and pain
barely contained behind thin panes of glass
she lives with the past at the tips
of her fingers, the warm breath of history
on the back of her neck
she remembers walking with her father
down these same streets
the buildings have shrunk but the people
are like diamonds, eternally beautiful
they are the fruit in her orchard
growing in the rich soil of her past
16 October 2013
Oak Street
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