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Caress the child,
Knit one, purl one a thousand times
and then some more,
Tickle the cat under silky-down chin til she
Thunder purrs in lap shaking happiness.
Wash the dishes in soap suds and steam til
they shine in the light that falls from the
kitchen window pane.

Touch my lover gently in the morning,
tracing fingers slowly
to his
Wondering what pictures they would make
If I joined them in a less random manner

I enjoyed these things today

Wrap them up in memories tight
And store them in the safe, warm places
In my mind

I fear the day when the words will
Fall from my mouth
That I cannot touch you
for the pain.
And my fingers will twist and bulge like the
Trunks of ancients trees,
And like trees they will only be able to watch the life pass by
And not join in.

Copyright © Sarah Bradberry. All rights reserved