Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Until I Do Not

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I walk past the park where you did not
and did not toss stones into the shallow
laughing as the ripples ran outward to stir the
on the surface.
I glance away from the school you did not
and did not skip jump across the hopscotch patch chalked on the
shrieking with the girls when the boys stole your
from the squares.
I do not hold your hand
or braid your hair
or know the color of your eyes.
And I am happy, most days, until
I do not kiss your cheek and half catch the whorl
of your ear
and a strand of your hair
with my lips.
Then this lavender-scented sorrow
pulls me past the park where you did not
and where I wonder again over the color of
your eyes.

Jennifer Saunders’ work has appeared online in BluePrintReview, Literary Bohemian, Shot Glass Journal, and elsewhere and is forthcoming in Blast Furnace, Ibbetson Street Magazine, and the anthology Classifieds: An Anthology of Prose Poems. She lives in Switzerland with her Swiss husband and their two hockey-playing Swiss-American boys. When she’s not writing poems or playing hockey in the driveway, she blogs at Magpie Days .

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