The colors, they’ve left a mark on my memory
When I see the glistening head of the red-bellied woodpecker
or the crimson as the sun sets this evening,
the blue of the iris,
the green of the papaya you’re tending to till ripe
I think of you in your Huipil
The fabric so lush, so colorful
Abuelo says you look beautiful, I agree
I can’t help but notice how the light of the sun catches
Shadow play before my eyes
The truth is you’d look beautiful in anything you wear,
but this is how I want to remember you always —
smiling in your Huipil