- for Abbey
I just noticed the lone freckle on the top of your hand.
Where did that come from?
You, our family’s southpaw,
were practicing your cursive letters
telling me you were good at all of them,
everything but zzzs.
So we drilled, you and me –
Where did that freckle come from?
You have a zigzagged zillion of them beneath your third born eyes.
Maybe you sneezed one day, one moment,
when I was a zombie to the divinity that is you,
and when you reached to wipe your button nose
with the back of your hand
a zealous freckle decided to change zip codes.
Maybe that’s what happened.
Or maybe that’s just me
torn by your gorgeous childhood zinging by
for I know some day, some moment,
some Zeus, more godlike than me, will call out
Follow Me! and in your zest you’ll drop our cursived nets
and I’ll be left like Zebedee of old,
alone on Zion’s shores, zero, zilch,
mending memories of freckles and zzzs.