April 19, 2014 
I write with your pen
–curving my palm
–your art leaving its nib
–your dreams filling my head
–your pain curdling my heart…
My body rises with his coffee
charging beginnings–
his work ethic
–impelling me forward
his glasses
–bridging my nose
his passion
–igniting my soul…
My mind
is his
–remembering her.
Yearning for her,
tasting her cravings
a snack mix)
hearing her music
static
promising her compromise
*an oversight*
wanting her caress
to soothe
listening to her heel Taps
–dopplering away→
–and I rite→
I right.
©Karen Robiscoe
Charron's Chatter 
I really like this. The yearning, the wanting, the wondering if it is right or rite or write or wright.
thanks, Al. I have to say–it’s all 3. A ritual of assimilating death as part of life on a personal level, a subconscious wish to right things perceived as wrong, and a physical activity/emotional faucet.
It’s about Shades, too. Being shaded by dead folk. 🙂
I felt the pull, the pushback and the pull yet again…and I felt your hurt..
thanks, Mimi. It’s a “trying to understand” thing…bewildering stuff…