Her hair is blond in early pictures
later
my mother dyed her hair red
red like the color of leaves on fire
she is pretty the way women used to be pretty
a parted lip pretty
a pretty that sighs and looks at its watch
and never believes it is pretty enough
she never thinks she is ever enough
and never believes there is ever enough
enough money or love
or color or time
her hair has turned gray
and she is still pretty
pretty the way I wish that I was
pretty the way I know that I’m not
she colors my world
like autumn or heaven
and I don’t believe there’s ever enough
enough words
enough time
to tell her I wasn’t
to say that I'm not
to tell her she is
she was always
enough.