|
I think of you,
laughing and impatient
waiting at our
gate
teasing my slowness,
my belly full of baby
and my father's
t-shirt,
a little too tight.
You were like a hummingbird—
constantly
moving.
We talked of names,
you felt the baby kick
and started
crying;
then we sat, just sat
watching flowers moving
in the slight
breeze,
and thinking, just thinking;
chewing over grass and
memories,
a feast of nostalgia,
our very own last supper.
