Barren

She'd always dreamed of
holding a baby in her
arms, worry melting

away as fingers
traced tendrils of newborn hair,
nostrils inhaling

the intense sweetness
of fresh, new love.

There was no pain in
the place where life would not grow,
just the ache of arms

forever empty,
instead carrying the weight
of her silent grief

the intense sting of
the word "barren."

--

Three Word Wednesday: barren, intense, worry

A long hold

His days were long.
Hers was too.

His was filled with
factory work, which
stuck to his face.

Hers was filled with
five children who
stuck to her legs.

Worried sighs drew
across his brow
as he sat at the dinner

table and whispered
to my mother about
bills and layoffs.

Worried eyes met
his as she held his
hands across the dinner

table and whispered
that everything would
be just fine.

Their talks were long.
But their kisses were too.



Poetic Bloomings - Prompt #38  (Hey, that's my line!)