by Heather M. Browne
With your cowlick choppy hair,
eyes big bowls of blue, your sticky hands,
I would have brought bubbles to blow & make you laugh,
chasing them & me.
I would have counted each freckle,
telling you they were really magic stars
to wish upon.
I would have looked for your bike
when it turned up lost
& given you mine,
taking off my birthday streamers sparkly plume.
I wish I'd known you when you were six
& skinned your knee & tried so hard not to cry.
I would have held your hand so tight,
'til you were done & put on a Piglet band-aid.
You my Pooh.
I wish I'd known you when you were twelve
& didn't fit in.
I would have made a secret club, just you & me,
& baked you crown-shaped cookies with your initials
in chocolate chips.
I wish I'd known when you cried at night,
not wanting anyone to know.
I would have promised you it would be okay,
cause I was there,
holding your sticky sweaty hand,
blowing bubbles & wishing on magic stars
HEATHER M. BROWNE is a faith-based psychotherapist and recently emerged poet, published in Boston Literary Magazine, Page & Spine, Poetry Quarterly, The Poetry Bus, Red Fez, Deep Water Literary Journal, Penman Review, Electric Windmill, Maelstrom, mad swirl, and Dual Coast. Her first chapbook, We Look for Magic and Feed the Hungry, has just been published by MCI. She has been married 20 years to her love, has 2 amazing teens, and can be found frolicking in the waves. Follow her here: www.thehealedheart.net.