Category: Grief

  • Our Table

    I used to enjoy sitting at our table, watching you eat, 
    watching you enjoy your food, every bite you took.
    You didn't know but I watched as we talked.
    Sweet potatoes, salads, stir-fry, spiced by ear,  
    your tiny hands, nourishing yourself with food I prepared,
    bought with the fruits of my labor.
    I watched you enjoy every bite, each an infusion,
    my love for you diffusing into you, 
    spoons full of love. A portion of my vow,
    what spring does with the cherry trees, but more,
    It was one way that I just knew.