Little Person

I remember cursing

The sticky lip prints

On the edges of glasses hardly used.

You already had a glass, why waste


But now I’m sitting here alone,

Fingering the edge of a glass hardly used

Wishing her same sticky lips

Left her little imprint

Reminding me of her presence.

But I have no little thing leaving

Sticky prints of fingers and lips

On every glass surface

I have no nail polish stains

On the carpet or on shirts

Or pants, for that matter,

Oh – and socks, too –

She was always messy;

And she is miles and miles away

Hopefully with either her mother

Or father

And it will be a few months

Until her little arms are around me

And with my patience,

And my sisters lack of,

I wish I could be with her for just a while

And listen to her little stories

And her sass.


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