Days like this I remember letters
in tiny boxes
careful pen strokes
never crossing the lines

Fat red apple jar filled with
chocolate sandwich cookies

The light on the back porch
sun breathing its life into us
I was so much older than she, sometimes
still the infant on her lap

She made me laugh, cry
made me bunny ears in the tub and told me
Little Orphan Annie was the worst
I had to fear

“I used to dance too,” she said
smiling at my tiny daughter
the same size as she
“Tap, with my sisters. I wish I remembered the steps.”

“I can show you,” and my baby took her hand.

She’s not there anymore
empty chair, empty house and when I need to feel strong
I spray on her perfume
and practice the steps
my daughter teaches me.