August 16, 2025 Tournament

A Confession

I converse with my plants, my confidants:
phalaenopses, cactus, ficus, hibiscus,
palms and anthuriums.

I savor the silence among them
for they just listen without qualms
and questions.

Pour my heart out, bare my soul,
expose the gnawing pains
of an unbearable longing
for a lost love, a soulmate,
and a friend.

I get enraged by the hostilities of
endless and senseless wars,
abhorrent hungers and strange diseases.

I do, however, have reverence for them
for they do not express opinions,
nor mock me in derision
for my enormous griefs –
some may brand as aberrations.

They, nodding, perhaps in concurrence
for the inconsequential
earnestness of such an obsession.

I, soon, long to hug my loyal friends,
in gratitude
for they grace me with lovely blooms on occasions;
accord me with infinite joy
in my retreat and self-introspections.

But, alas, they’re incapable of hugging me back.
not the way you would hug me tenderly, my love,
my dearest friend
- a darling husband
- a beloved tennis coach,
- the non-comparable Claude England!!

Norma R.S. England
Copyright August, 2025