Fresh Linen
A Poem
She smelled like fresh linen, that wrapped my bed in lavender,
the knife that spread marmalade on toasted home-baked bread,
She drove me to school the winter he silently left and suddenly in my bereavement there were no unicorns or rainbows or pots of gold.
Instead, she taught me how to tie my laces, Fill my heart in empty spaces, Hear the blue bird scream against faded sky And watch the lavender crack through the earth to bloom again.
