Witch Hazel
by Lisa Meserole

I remember how I first carried you
in my arms, your blooming body
pressed to mine, limbs tangling in my hair.
You turned heads as we passed
wanting to know your name.

We drove you home
waited for the ground to warm
then set down your roots.
Four years now, daughter of winter
you’ve outgrown us both.

And in fifty or a hundred years hence
when you’re an heirloom of sunshine
will you remember me –
how I trudged through snow,
snuggled close to your petal-soft skin
abandoned myself in your newborn scent?

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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