The Magic That Was You

I inhale the peaches,

red and orange color.

Peaches so perfect,

as if they escaped a Renoir painting.

I seek a bruised one

and I delight that it's flawed.

I wait with anticpation

to slice into it.

I remember you,

gently holding a knife

and cutting into it.

A smile would appear

in the corners of your mouth,

when you tasted the sweetness.

I take a peach to my lips,

the taste almost intoxicating.

I wish I could share it with you mom,

the way we shared so much.

I carried slices of pain,

between mother and daughter.

I held bitterness to unkind words,

unimportant and trivial,

now that you're gone.

I have not forgotten,

the magic that you carried.

Love you scattered.

Your arms that like a blanket,

covered us and kept us warm.

The love that made walls into

a home.

I wish you knew

that I miss you everyday

since you left.

When you visit me in my dreams,

I attempt to remember

fragments of you.

I remain longing for you,

for words I did not say,

those last few days.

You tried to speak

but I could not understand,

your tongue swollen,

your eyes desperate to reach me.

I hid the tears but

you saw the pain in my eyes.

Mom, as I inhale this peach,

as I soak into this life,

I remember.

The longing lingers,

the pain remains

and I wish you were here.



August 26th is three years since my mom passed away. I miss her every day.
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