Pink Lattes and A Slice of Poundcake

I remember not your face except to look in the mirror "you look just like her." But in my mind's eye, no image conjures I remember not your voice except to hear my sisters "you sound just like her." But in my heart's ear, no sound comes I remember not your hands except to look at my own "you write just like her." But in my soul's touch, no feeling emerges I remember you even as I hardly knew you Your essence fills my space touches my face sings in the shadow place Poet's note: Birthday tribute to my late mother she died when I was only four Being a motherless child has defined every moment of my existence for decades Her born day is May 16

If the loves that last are the first loves then does that mean there is no more love? What if the first love is your's and not his and his heart belongs to another but you don't know that because you are only seventeen? If the loves that last are the first loves and there is no more real love then is it ok that you simply walk away from the one who says he loves but does a few too many tokes of that 70s drug? If the loves that last are the first loves so that the real loves are a mystery and you stop looking and just be with the one that you love and loves you but doesn't bring the fire like the others do? If the loves that last are the first loves and there is no more love that the rest of us are not finding do we just walk away and stop trying?