Unpacking the trunk

You look at me and
see a gray body bloated with memories,
wrinkled by the worries of
a life too well remembered

You see no beauty in
the bulk of my weight, hips that
have carried our children into
this dusty, drought-weary world

little ones who gaze at
their mother through elephant-thick eyelashes and
see only the fierce matronly
love beneath the rough hide

--

Creative Bloomings prompt #166 - animal house

The perfect storm

The hardest thing to learn
as a parent
is when to be the
umbrella
and when to
walk behind and let them
fall into that puddle
alone


--

April PAD Day 9 - shelter 

What child is this

For all the homeless kids in Hollywood

Who are you
that send your lambs
to slaughter

The City of Angels
is no place
for children with dreams

Hope litters the sidewalks
like shards of
the broken bottle laying

at your baby's feet
as he sleeps
on the cold stoop of the YMCA

dreaming of a place
and face that he used
to call home

---

November PAD Day 15 - what (blank)

Coo coo

Her lips curl to smile
with the baby on her lap.
"I want one," she says.

April PAD Day 21 - senryu

Homecoming

He's grown, it seems,
in the few days that
he's been gone. They
do that a lot at 15.

He smiles and leans
against me so I can
nuzzle him like a little
boy. "I missed you."


November PAD #20 - best ever