Writers At Work remember
I hold you sacred
Memories:
I remember discovering that a poem I’d fallen
in love with had a name
It was Sonnet
There is the memory I rely on daily
At Writers At Work I learned to breathe
To inhale and exhale evenly
And sometimes, just for fun
My breath iambic pentameter
I have a memory of laughter. I have a memory of my skin
remembering the feel of the gentle guidance offered
as you touched my cheek all rosy and warm.
Writers At Work 