Meals of the Heart

There’s a man that often sits
inside of a doorway often not used.
I say man because I think he’s my age
give or take,
and therefore is an adult.

But then I think of my dad
who still calls me his little girl,
the breakfast he makes me
even when I say I’m not hungry
— He knows I normally am.

I think of my mother
who always makes sure my belly is full,
but my heart…