A rough hand on a soft cheek
Where would I be
Nowhere
Hot tears fallen on his already burdened shoulders
Yet I am somehow allowed
The luxury of weightlessness
Pacing in the foyer
I find myself in his movements
His beard wanes and waxes like the moon
Its phases infinitely their own in shape and memory
The ebb and flow of his conscious creation
A rumbling cough
A sudden snore
A hazy awakening
A deep indent in a chocolate draped chair
A reminder of comfort and youth
I am old now
As is he
I find strange comfort in this
I am loved
Even when I am
Loveless
Grace Womack is a freshman English and Criminology major. She recently transferred to the University of Arkansas and is so thankful to her peers and professors for giving her such a warm welcome.