
This feisty girl
Lives down the block
Her pure stubborn fire
A perfect character foil
To my son’s easy river flow
Here everyday, in my house
Always eating my apples
she has become family
She asked me to braid her hair
I’m not well practiced
But I gave my best effort
Wobbly ropes crowning
Her charming countenance
As we laughed
She asked me about wigs
Forgotten until today’s conjuring
I remembered my aunt Carol
Frail of body but full of
Fiery spirit
Elegant and poised
She had beautiful ankles
A weird thing to say
But a sharp memory nonetheless
Tasteful wigs adorned her balding head
In defiance of Death
Crooking its finger
Flowing skirts, silk scarves
Red lipstick in a gold case
My mind conjures now
The faint whiff of roses
When I was three, I lived downstairs
As soon as I awoke I would scramble up
To her second floor apartment
Imagine velvet and satin
Tropical plants in profusion
Around a modest piano
Knowing that I adored my cats
She composed a song
For me to practice
“Max and Joey, Joey and Max
We do like, the way they act”
Three notes; joyful trill
Skipping across the keys
She would braid my riotous curls
Tightly woven strands framed
My anomalous visage
Three generations of women
Chosen kin
Ninety pounds of wispy waif
She was our white knight
A soft place to land
Between life’s cruel touches
At her funeral
I held my mama’s hand
Crying bitter tears
For the loss of a great mother
The Aunt Distribution System
Bequeathed by the universe
Three is
A magic number
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.


Comments (1)
One can never go wrong with red lipstick. I'm so sorry for your loss. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️