Those Days
Funny the things I remember, my son.
These days it’s the bend and beauty of
your small fingers
tipped in reassuring glow of nails
luminous like bone.
The way they arched when you spoke
like the brows above your eyes
raised when you asked me
everything.
The way those fingers lay at night before we slept
across the hollow at the center of my neck.
You always said how much
you loved me
even more so
in those days before you died
when it hurt to move at all
but still you had to drag your
bone-thin arms up each night
to touch and hold your mama.
-Catharine H. Murray
Catharine H. Murray 
Catharine,
A beautiful, immensely poignant poem .. Sending you a huge hug..
abrazos, Sue 🌻
LikeLike
So beautiful and touching, Catharine. Thank you for sharing.
LikeLike
Such lovely imagery and remembering of your dear son. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words.
LikeLike
Catharine, What a powerful poem. Thank you for sharing it and and an intimate glimpse at what your life was like with your son while he was alive and now.
I’m holding you in care,
Dale
LikeLike