gentle gesture.

Wrapping her skinny arms,
around my waist,
she squeezed.
She’s a waif,
delicate and scrawny,
innocent,
in such contrast,
to the curvy, womanly,
angry,
thirteen-year-old I was.
She held me,
faintly,
and I wavered,
feeling myself quake,
under the force,
of a gentle gesture,
for I couldn’t remember,
the last time,
I was given a hug,
instead of one,
being taken from me.

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6 thoughts on “gentle gesture.

  1. What I love in the way you write is, giving perspective to mundane realities…the visible is given the spark of mystery, emotions and dreams come alive. Loved this.

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