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For Mother's Day 2005I plop upon the bed. My foot is sore.You change into your jams and grab a book.We settle in. A scratching at the doorand I stand, let the cat in, and head backto bed. I settle in. We don't have waters.You rise and bring your glass around the bedand take…
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Bobby raises his wine glass in a toast, I raise mine in return, and we touch them lightly to each other, oh so lightly, as if we are afraid the glass will shatter.
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He saw them hanging on his every word. There was much to say.
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Risen to the kiss and kill ...
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