Lentil Soup*…

My heart is warm as much as a bowl of lentil soup can be on a rainy day in May.

My neck slides between my shoulders roving the overthinking path, a turtle pushing her sadness further on the way.

Our home is full but I am not there, you’re missing my smell, my voice, my sadness on the couch. Our home is warm and I am there, you’re crowded, surrounded, fleeing with a smirk in slouch.

*unfinished recipe