Middles

80 percent anticipation and nostalgia,

We’re caught up between the romances of

What was and

What might be.

A rising bridal veil, a scrapbook by a coffin;

The eager birth of expectation

And birthdays thereafter to reminisce.

Summertime is thirsty for hot chocolate,

Cozy sweaters and winter squash;

Winter curses broken water heaters

And longs for popsicles and playgrounds.

Mushed in the middle are

Broken-in shoes,
Sighs,

Bear hugs

And moms.

A hushed suspension,

Then I’m crumpling my paper plans

And breathing air.