in the corner she kept it folded
quiet metal legs waiting to stretch
beside torn rags and cleaning sprays
where years of work rested unseen
she drew it out with care each time
the weight of love balanced in her arms
her hands steady as unyielding roots
the board a stage for wrinkled lives
the iron hissed like a whispered prayer
steam rising to smooth the chaos
my small clothes transformed beneath her hands
lines and creases erased by her tenderness
every school morning began here with her
an act of love pressed into fabric
the smell of heat and crisp perfection lingered
mama zil’s touch stitched into my memory