Love, C.P.

Genes don’t make sisters.
I know this for sure.
I married her brother
And may have gotten more.
We share a last name
And also initials.
She always feels my pain
Though it’s still not official.
A better sister there hardly could be.
So paint me a heart
With the words Love, C.P.

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Because I Must

I look in on your tiny
little self, sleeping in
a big girls bed, and
my heart soares.
I smell your pink velvet skin
that I am compelled to touch,
often. Just feeling your cheek
with my finger is
a pleasure unlike any other.
Later you would ask,
“Mommy why do you
touch my face?”
“Because I must.
Just like when you see
your baby brother, and
your heart soares.
You have to grab his
chubby little hands, and
squeeze and kiss them.
You can’t help it.
You just have to.
Because you must.”

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Relationship Symphony

You knew me
When
My spirit was young,
With sharps and flats
On a music sheet.

Loved me
When
The melody was sung,
And danced along
At a steady beat.

Supported me
When
The song was somber,
And I could feel
My soul retreat.

Caressed me
When
The crescendo thundered,
And once again
I rose to my feet.

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October Spain

I won’t forget
That evening in Spain.
We ate and drank
And with friends we sang.

Draped in a shawl
Strolling by the sea.
That October in Spain
Felt like Summer to me.

I won’t forget
That evening in Spain
The music, the ring,
A round of Champagne.

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