| Warmth I never knew that the price for letting go was such folding-in ache, somewhat like a bird trying to find way to their nest at night -- or losing a child in a crowd, the shine of your smile still warms my hands as I hold your photo in my emptied hands, I ache to see you again see you as you were again, smiling I remember you crocheting me that poncho blue and red squares in fine treble, soft wool every night I watched it grow.. you placed it on the back of the lounge chair for me to find one morning before school oh the smell, the warmth the golden warmth of you shalome � 2004 |