My mom.
When I was little
she used to brush my hair
a lot after I bathed,
along my neck and
behind my ear
My mom.
Sometimes she'd
leave notes for me in
the morning before school
if she couldn't
kiss me goodbye
My mom.
When I had bad dreams
and sneaked into her
room to lay on
the floor below her bed,
she let me stay
for a few minutes
That was her love.
The brief
The ancient
The familiar
She's a secret pit of
nurturance in my life and I don't
know who to thank for that
Now I'm older.
I was home from college
and she came up
behind me to squeeze my
shoulders
I shrugged it off
because I was
being caressed like
a little girl
And yet, a part
of me craved
that motherly affection
the moment her
hands slipped away
Her touch was something I hadn't
felt in a really long time.
