Micheala Ruth September Poet Free verse

Warmth of a Mother

How lucky I am
To have the privilege
Of hearing your voice
Through a speaker,
The remnants of your laugh
Still burnt into memory,
Your smile the brightest
There ever truly was,
As infectious as ever.

But what of your touch,
Your hold, your hug.
How do I remember
The physicalities of these things
And the comfort that they could
Always so easily bring.
How do I recall
What it felt like
To throw myself into your arms
And be wrapped in the warmth
Of the sun amidst a frozen winter land.
To know that you would always be here?

How do I recall it
When the moment I try,
There's a ghost of a shiver,
Of a touch, of a hold
That leaves the entirety of me
Shaking, quaking, aching,

That leaves me longing 
For the reassurance
And the presence 
Of my mother again.

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