Hello, Mom, I’m scared.
I found yesterday –
by the red walkway.
I thought of you last year when I didn’t grind the coffee beans enough.
Daddy, I can’t find you.
The last time your face was your own, I was drawing flowers in sidewalk chalk.
Sister, I feel your back against mine.
We both in opposite directions.
Your golden smile withered up.
Lady, the way back is over there.
Don’t help me –
the way back is weary.