Thursday, March 21, 2013

lavender


My mother’s friend had a garden,
and she would give me sprigs of
lavender to put under my pillow.
To keep the dreams away so I

could get to sleep at night.
Summers were spent at their
house: in the pool, watching
Star Wars, and endless games

of flashlight tag at night. 
Brothers would play Cops
and Robbers, but we would
have tea parties with sandwiches.

Thin sliced cucumber with a sliver
of cream cheese.  We’d drink
pinkies up and talk in cringe-
worthy British accents. 

At night, when I couldn’t
sleep, she’d make me
chamomile tea, and talk
until the stars came out.

Do I miss her, or just the
memories?  It wouldn’t be
the same now.  Now all I have
are pressed flat lavender twigs.

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