Barbara

Written by: Donald Meikle

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