In memory of…
I remember
my mother
squeezing my hands
till the feeling
returned.
I remember
drinking coffee
with her,
sugar and milk,
percolated
from a pyrex pot.
I remember
flying
homemade
brown bag kites
on the floodwall levees.
and her smile
and her smile
and her smile.
I have lost everything
but these memories.
I cannot make new ones
of her
or her smile,
her smile,
her smile.
Permalink //
I walk the levee
in dreams only, now,
letting the tethered string loose
behind me.
I don’t need to turn around
to see to know the kite
still flies high in
the blue-drenched sky.
I wait for the breeze,
the scent of jasmine and rose bush
and more, crowding their way
into memory.
When the storms come,
as they will, as they always do,
this levee will hold, and so
I keep walking.
Permalink //
Love how you responded.
It’s all about the invisibilia.
The wind that fills the kite,
the jasmine on the breeze,
the storms–
all grounded by the levees.