When you come, I want potatoes and beans and bread
and long naps that lead to visits with Aunt Mattie.
When I hear Donnie Hathaway, I think of Auntie’s smile
And the refuge I found in her childless arms.
When you leave, I think how my bones respond slower
and how much I look like her.
I wonder if this longing, this ache is how she felt.
*need a better title. Not sure where this is going. Ideas?