be happy she says, her soft arms hold me as I lean into them seeking reassurance a promise to protect am I so old, I wonder to need that which I gave so freely, assuming I was the stronger when she was frail am I so lucky, I ask looking at the starry skies as if the milky way might hold the answer but then I stop look into her eyes and know the love of a daughter
© Neetu Malik
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
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