close to

One sultry evening we were
standing ankle deep at river’s edge,
one thin layer of cotton wafting
on your skin beside me:

my hesitation
formed thunderheads
drenched my skin
drove me to shelter.

But one afternoon
bundled in layers
against the winter
I took your arm:

you smiled
snuggled against me
as we walked
somewhere together.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in Poetry, river poems, scapes, snow, thoughts below ground and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to close to

  1. danae mcC says:

    So much said in such a little poem. Brilliant! (And thank you for a moment or two of summer weather.)

  2. riverwriter says:

    Thanks. There are moments one wishes to be telepathic (to a certain extent . . .).

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