Wait, Interrupted

Wait, Interrupted

She waits
as she did last Friday night
and the one before.

Her nephew pulls at her skirt
and she looks down
to move his small hands, afraid
sticky food
has saturated her ironed skirt.

Instead she sees a rose clenched
between his pearly whites,
doing his best imitation of
his dad.

Her heart, breaking moments before,
swells and she smiles and picks him up,
ironed skirt and sticky hands forgotten.

There will be time to wait
again
next Friday.

Meeaugraphie
03/25/07


Note:
These words are mine.
Please, do not use them without my permission.
You are welcome, however, to link back to them.
Meeaugraphie