Surrounding

There's something so wonderful

about a hug from a child they

flash shy eyelashes bright

eyes glowing, with wonder

wondering why

they love me so.

They brush back hair

with sticky hands, soft

round my neck, head

next to mine

I look forward, I can't see her

I only see my surroundings

but I'm smiling and

I know she must be too

as she slightly surrounds me

An afternoon at the library

the copy machine clatters

I press the book down

silently apologizing as

the binding creaks

with displeasure, light

travels across the page

as the machine remembers

so me memory

hidden in the fibers

of a worn piece of cardstock

the page slides out white, black

writing bold, faded grays of the folds, creasing

like wrinkles, half a page not copied

correctly, fades into oblivion-

never to be found again

obscurity calling me