Chalk Covered Kisses.

As I lift her off the ground she throws her tiny arms around my neck,
Saying hello in the only way we ever have.
“I love you, a bushel and a peck,” I say.
She interrupts, finishing the end of our song.
“A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”

She stands on her white chair in the middle of the kitchen
and adds red food coloring to the white cake mix, staining it pink.
It’s one of our traditions: pink cake, purple frosting.
As she sticks her finger in the cake mix to taste test it
I smile, mimicking her actions.

Chalk time comes, like always,
Sticks and stumps of color dumped out across the cold concrete.
Flowers, rainbows, hearts and stars,
The usual shapes and scenes illuminate the gray ground
While chalk covered kisses leave a powdered stamp on my cheek.

Four days pass and like the chalk murals on the ground
I must leave with the rain, back home.
The smiles are gone and her tears are here to stay.
As she hugs me one last time I whisper,
“I love you, a bushel and a peck.”