Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Of Things Familiar





I run my fingers over your curves and lines
Oh, I know them well and with my eyes closed
I can tell where your imperfections are
The beautiful broken, the shards of life
Flung into this cup cradling the strife
Of temporal sorrow and joy

…of dashing barefoot boy
Or the giggling passage of ribbons and curls
And little girls
On their way to being women
And my smile traces these love-worn places
Bearing the permanent image of faces

…on a slide-show of moments where
We gathered for dinner; the table and chairs
Scarred testaments of happiness and family
Of comfort in familiarity
In this place where we come; discarding brave masks
Because we are at home

© Janet Martin

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