I count seven
rosebuds of pink and purple hue
on the plant I bought for Mother's Day
two years ago
The sun is shining after a morning of rain
we make plans for dinner. but the house
so full just last month is empty now, and silent
except for the snip of scissors as Shari cuts
the cloth for a new creation, and the scritch
of my pen on paper as I write this. The robin
out front sings mourning for it's young one
fallen from the nest, as ours have done
perhaps I need a puppy
not to replace, but for company
now that Samoa my old cookie
is no longer there, right here, where
I can reach out my left hand
to feel her presence, for my comfort
Ahh! There it is just that right spot where
the itch lives waiting for my scratch.