Nancy Hesting is a published writer and poet who lives with her husband in Michigan’s Manistee National Forest where she can be found shoveling snow, picking up pine cones, or hunting for mushrooms. Her work has appeared in Ad Hoc Fiction, The Pangolin Review, and Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Come Lie With Me
I turn down the covers
come lie with me, I say
it has been a long time
we miss her.
Her nightgown hangs on a wire hook
a breeze catches it, lavender fills the room
her favorite scent, now mine.
Two silver combs, ornate in their design
sit atop an antique bureau with
strands of her blond hair
reminders everywhere.
I pat Mary’s side of the bed and whistle
Daisy hops up, snuggling in tight.
I stroke her white fur, and we mourn.