You Didn’t Get Your Hug Today (5/29/92)

You Didn't Get Your Hug Today  (5/29/92)

The little girl who was not my own,
but might have been,
would walk right in and say,
“You didn’t get your hug today,”
then turn and leave again,
trailing a stream of cinnamon and violet.
Today, after this endearing ritual,
her mother sent her off for a month
to live with her father,
who lived a million miles away.
A month is not so long a time,
but it’s a goodly amount of hugs
from a little girl
who is a part of me;
a chunk of days a little less full.

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Posted on January 31, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Is this about Hailey?

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