Brown curly hair pulled back tight
she sits at a smooth metal table
grasping a steaming styrofoam cup
with hands calloused from manual labor
Her skin is soft with age
textured with deep wrinkles from
years in the St. Petersburg sun
Dark eyes hold the sadness of life
amplified by large round glasses
lips taut with memories
Dreams and discarded cigarette stubs
lie at her feet
Quietly Making Noise 