She echoes my sentiments
as she runs toward the open door.
Her nostrils twitch with each inhalation,
breathing deep the brisk winter air.
Such joy to feel so alive!

2012 @ Pamela Rudisill


Wistful Comfort

Dreams of my mother
a child, a wisp of a thing
held in my arms
small measure of wistful comfort

My arms now cradle
the warmth of a feline rumble
I bury my face in soft grey fur
baptized by tears

2012 @ Pamela Rudisill