remembering

 

 

 

 

 

when she referred to this color as old-lady-blue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spill

 

 

 

 

 

summer in your house
the morning light poured in
spilling on the chenille
like warm milk

dishes clattering in the kitchen
as you made breakfast

 

 

 

 

 

no worries

 

 

 

 

 

I think about those days of barefeet, scraped knees, sunburns, mosquito bites and garden dirt…

 

 

 

 

 

 

release

 

 

 

 

 

she strained to hold on to the good parts
when the not-so-good parts were hard to shake off

 

 

 

 

 

 

july

 

 

 

 

 

there were those hot sticky nights
picnics by flashlight on the dewey grass
waiting for the fireworks
we chased fireflies