Parked in wheelchairs, rocking chairs

or on a weathered bench,

like rows of sea birds

along a wharf

sit the generically named.

White tufts of dandelion hair

withered, weeks old apple faces,

oak tree fingers

and rainy eyes,

they wait.

Pulling me toward the door

she prances forward

on child legs in child-shiny shoes

and splits the sea.

Rows of grayed sunflowers

dip in our direction, sunturning.

“Hello” she says

and in that light

they recall

First loves

Being seen.

A speech-language therapist recently retired from 40 years of teaching literacy skills to dyslexic children, Millman is “relatively new to publishing poetry although not to writing it. I have several poems either published or due to come out in various literary journals,” she says.

Facebook Comments