“Lizzyyyy….,” said Marie, twisting her chair around. “I thought I told you to get new shoes,” Marie says. Lizzy looks down at her shoes, caked with dirt and grime, broken from the hours she spent working on her family’s farm.

to live is to see the sorrows of others

to long for the song of your mom

to stroke the head of your black dog

to live is to see the sorrows of others 

to greet at the sound of your father’s feet

The little boy

his little red raincoat

I remember my little purple raincoat

it used to feel so big.

His grandma

her black raincoat

trowel in hand

I remember my grandma teaching me gardens

Her hands are cupped around

A rose,

Perfectly red petals

Curling to the center,

Where she has stored her heart;

I was a kitten

Alone in the woods

With no one to help me

I was a dog

Running at the beach

With no one to watch me

I was a human

Kind and caring

I saw a dog