How Young


I was picking dandelion bouquets

to place on my mother’s lap

My youth almost spent, I asked,

how long will I be old?


Age last longer than youth.

And those who see only age spots and skin

will look at faded images

and in their dotage say,

how young!


I don’t even have to be be a beauty

for such a remark

my youth will speak,

shout out from those graphs:


How young.

Look! How young.




So used to your body

I roll over, reach out

and the indented sheets

startle me. I forgot,

You’ve gone again.



I vacuum our bedroom

and caught your shoe lace,

so quickly it spun and thumped

so quickly.



I put them to bed,

your babies. I kissed them,

blessed, tucked in, soothed.

The way I do.

They asked for you.



Alone and half dressed,

in our bed with

minty breath,

I wait for you to ring.