Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #448

Words:  hug, face, restrict, home, times, cult, distance, count, woke, look, call, hands

How I miss hugs! They put
a smile on my face, no
matter the mood I might
be stewing in. Home
and restricted to keeping
a distance make these
aberrant times feel
isolating, no truth
to believe in. I twirl
a lock of my hair
over and over, stare at
my scrubbed, sandpapery
hands. I cannot help
thinking this is a
wake-up call to nurture
earth once again. We
cannot afford to be
a cult of naysayers.
I want my hugs back.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
This entry was posted in Purple's Home and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Hugless

  1. ivor20 says:

    Yes,,, I love my huggies…


  2. Aw, so perfect for what we are all going through!


Comments are closed.