Back home belly full, skin, kissed from sun-drenched red earth
The land of her birth gave her tools to navigate the world
From Africa to Europe via Caribbean, she came
She came to land where cool breeze meant freeze
And soup and curry carried aromas to open door, no more
Fed me tales of mango scent and yam root
Kept my cup full of tea, while hers half, plenty empty

From basket on head to paper bags and plastic-wrapped bread
She worked, and she hurt, from names that she heard
But Friday was payday, and Glory come, Sunday