She chose soft clothes.

Fmme writes poems

Her bare feet are cold against the kitchen floor.

She chose soft clothes today,
as if her body was a child
in need of comfort.

She held on tight – the kettle handle
smooth beneath her palm –

her clinging on, like it’s
a lifeline linking her
to planet Earth

her feet are bare against the cold kitchen floor

she closed her hands around the cup –
heat almost pain,
pain almost heat –
but nothing warms her –

she trailed her fingers
over the wooden table,
letting the faint, fine ridges
of the grain be felt
letting the texture soothe her

her cold feet bare against the kitchen floor

she chose soft clothes today,
to hold her like a mother’s arms,
cradling her.

This is my second poem for the dVerse prompt tonight. Bjorn wonders what happens if we change “he” to “me” or “us” to “they”. I’ve already…

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