Two, Hand in Hand


The abandoned cider mill
where the odd stranger
balances stones
and paints each new shadow
a hovering blue
with grace
woven into a blanket
of ancient footsteps
whispering
through the river
longing
for shivers of warmth

the very place where your name crept
into my bed of crumpled leaves
and caressed my inner thighs
with gentle waves of clarity
the very place our trust unfolded
beneath each stunted breath

shivers of cider poured
into
tears of possibility
washing us clean
free to touch and explore
as children
laughter echoing
through
the inner walls
of our deepest canyons
~cyndy
Categories: poetry posted by Cyndy | link | | |
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