Crossing America

Dust has gathered on a photograph of you.
The years you weathered from the storm called
life has taken its toll.
There you sit with lines and creases upon
your face, hands cracked from bending over
washing floors and scrubbing dishes.
All the meals you cooked without the kindness
of a thank you.
Life was hard crossing the parries. If you
stood before me now, I would say thank you
for being strong to braving a new world.
I'm looking at your photograph now from a
distant past. My great grandmother's crossing
America in a covered wagon with my fathers
Dad.