today. There’s Bachata music,
and gentle torrents of stubborn tears
gloss my grin--I always
when echoes of your voice season
all my thoughts,
when coconut milk simmers
with brown rice and pigeon peas
under a bed of fresh plantain leaves
(because tastes and sounds matter
when crafting memories of gone love
back to life).
are absent, but there is music.
photo by Dave Weatherall, on Unsplash
- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #59: Love and Loss).