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
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