List of Touches I Miss— Day Twenty-Nine of NaPoWriMo 2022

I lean against the cold railing,

wind brushing across my face,

I close my eyes as the chill reminds me

of a list of touches, I miss, from back home.


Of golden sunlight that warmed me,

Of the salty breeze that danced through my hair,

Of the soft grains of sand I dug my feet in,

Leaving behind impermanent reminders of my existence.


As I gaze out into the inky blue night,

glittering fluorescent lights from tall buildings that mask the stars,

The cacophony of shared lives has me yearning for the gentle humming of my mother, the youthful exuberance of my sister, and the jingling notes of keys as my father returns home.


A sharp ache settles deep in my chest, I raise my hand to rub it away, and I recollect another list of touches I miss,


Of gentle, calloused hands applying oil into my hair, and braiding them

Of soft tiny fingers that pulled me along as balance while learning to walk

Of paws settling into my lap,

Of a booming laugh that reverberated through my chest when I lay safe in the confines of a hug.


I push away from the railing,

Walk back into my room

and call home.


Written by Kriti for MTTN

Featured Artwork by Andrius Balciunas

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