Tiny red bulbs
Burst like bubbles
inside my mouth
Sweet and juicy
A gift
Tiny cranberry beads
Trickle into the bowl
Spilling, filling
Sweet and kind
Soft and loving
Trickle
Burst
Sweeten
Soften
Gentle connection
For tough times
Soft love for hard times
Tiny red beads
Tiny bulbs, pockets of sweet:
A reminder.
Eventually it’s gone
Eventually new ground
Everything changes
And this I accept!
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Behind me, they await and I strain my neck trying to fit into the frame I shift back standing at an awkward angle, mouth a
It used to be maybe twenty, A mad rush to get to the microwave and then, bathroom Shuffle food in and maybe a brief second
Last week a friend reminded me that I am not a mother and she is. Initially, it stung, sending me into a spiral of I’ll-never-be-good-enough’s