Hand raised,
palm forward —
you call us to be blessed.

Eyes knowing,
from the other world —
you see within.

Gold rim of the lampshade
crowning your tussled hair —
your soft presence draws us near.

Blackberry jam
smeared across your lips
(and cheeks) —
all angels beseech you.

Perfect being
with sticky fingers —
bless us.

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My first poem for NaPoWriMo (written on April 1, but posted late — just building site today)