Familiars
I met Lydia when I needed a friend
She was always quiet, and hid under the bed
I learned how to watch what would happen from her.
I was always happy to see a familiar face
Coming through the door or window frame
Never to stay for long, just to let me know she was there
Babs died and at Thanksgiving Harriett told me
About her closest friend of twenty three
Who I would always be two years older for
Every year I lived, I heard the voices
Of the women and the familiars
Who watched after me with care.
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