I remember the smell of almond tea
brewing on the stove
in the quiet of a quiet winter night
and sitting with you, mother,
on the couch with the yellow flowers
and looking out into the darkness
and feeling warm and feeling safe.
I remember whispering in order
not to wake my father
sleeping in the bedroom down the hall
with the door closed, mother,
and leaning in to hear you,
huddled close, I would breathe in the
scent of your perfume
and I felt safe.
