Photo source: Unsplash
Her
Her skin soft
As she sweeps a wisp
Of hair away
Her wrist exuding
A scent of violets
A white cotton handkerchief
With hand embroidered roses
To wipe away tears
And runny noses
Placed carefully
In her right coat pocket
Always at the ready
For anything
That may come her way
Any disaster that would
Surely strike
Her specialties
Holding hands
Hugs and kisses
Making things better
And the world disappear
So it’s only her and you
Safe in her arms
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Beautiful!
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Thank you, Gulara.
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Very nice. You took me there, to that moment.
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Thank you, Corina.
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Beautiful. So many memories come to mind, Ula. There was my daughter’s KIndergarten teacher who still has her in the choir and we’ve become friends over the years. She is such a loving person and fits that description perfectly…as does my Grandma. It probably describes me too as a Mum to my kids. The things I’ve had to do over the years where I’m having to be that person with their box of tricks even though I am so far out of my comfort zone and absolutely terrified.
Perhaps, the hanky in the pocket is for herself as much as for others…
x Rowena
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What great associations you had. Great insight about the handkerchief.
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Thanks, Ula.
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God I adore your poetry. It’s just so evocative and gives me so many images. Your poetry is like delicious to speak it flows so wonderfully off the tongue. LOVE IT.
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Thank you so much, Sacha. It means a lot for me. I have so much doubt in my own writing.
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