You pick the biggest spoon to scoop your ice cream.
Three tiny bites and you’re done.
You play with your favorite doll for a two year old minute
then move on to the microphone, sing and bow.
I watch you try and get into my jewelry box
on the high shelf (It’s new spot).
It takes three tries before defeat is realized.
Even then there is a murmur under breath about
coming back and trying again.
On my lap, I hardly feel the weight of small bones
but the loud laugh fills the room
In Persian Poetry, Majnun was crazy for Layla.
There are times the earth spins faster, the ground
can’t keep up with your feet. But I understand the words
“I am yours.”