Barbara

Barbara Sometimes I wrap my arms around her and hug Sometimes I bury my lips in the small of her neck Tasting the day she has spent in her garden It tickles she squirms away But not too far  Other times I stand close to her  Brushing pollen stains from her cheeks Or tasting them Her nails are filled with clinging dirt Her hair a mass of pinned up curl Breaking free in wrist brush back  defiance She smells and tastes of early Summer and has gone far too long without a hug