Thursday, February 20, 2014

Cherub Chasing.

The little boy roared. His arms were raised, hands spread, like the hands of a monster. His round caramel face was that of a cherub even when trying to frighten the children he was running after on the McDonald's play land. As he ran, his little feet, stuffed in socks and rugged gladiator sandals, pattered about on tiptoe which made his actions that much more amusing to watch.

He was having so much fun.

I sipped my black coffee as I watched them through the glass, unable to hear the shrieks of the three long-haired, blond brothers my little cherub was chasing.

But he wasn't my cherub at all. He belonged to the man whom he ran to for a hug when he tripped over his own stomping sandals. He belonged to his baby brother who he kissed clumsily before returning to play and left to rest peacefully in his stroller next to the dad. He belonged to a momma who wasn't there. He didn't belong to me.

Still, I watched him and thought about what if he had.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Love Hunger.

It's feast or famine
When I examine
I love.

She thought about tattooing that to her arm today.