Susan Smiles

Always

Always the wetness
of her tears
on my face

Always the whispers
of her words
in my ears

Always the reaching
of her arms
trying to get a hug

Always the leaning
of her head
trying to touch my heart

Always the sitting there
waiting to be asked
to go for a walk with me

Who is this person
wanting these things
from, and of, me?

Everyone tells me:
"She is YOU". Ginger

This poem is written in regards to the anguish of removing the years of layers
of demands of others and society of a chronological aged thing to find
the flesh and blood person birthed & named Ginger: