The power of an old queen.
I stare at her until she returns my gaze. She has all my attention, I stare- a smile
on my face, turquoise cup in hand- coffee is steaming.
She holds my eyes, takes me in. She has ash on her forehead...seconds later she wears a
smile as well. The apron over her clothes is checkered blue and white and faded
with use and laundry. I mouth "HOLA" and she nods and smiles at me. An old queen who
could be drenched in jewels and rich velvets and silks, her smile is a treasure of jewels her
scepter grants. A humble woman, I bow at her feet, so thankful with contact.
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