your hands were warm,
as were your letters
against my cold touch
i did not know spring then -
nor the weight of long winter
this i now know:
my heart leapt
at the sound of your voice,
that old memories rushed back
like gentle tides returning
to a forgotten shore,
that the air between us
still carried electricity
from long-ago words
who knows what might have been -
how a fragile bud,
a seed of a smile,
a light touch
might have opened slowly
into something larger
under the full glare
of sun, rain, and sky
my mind was timid then,
my resolve even more afraid.
when you are young,
naïve, and unsure of what might grow,
even hope can feel dangerous
so i let it pass -
that brief warmth,
that almost-season.
now i look back
on that time in my life
with fondness -
no regrets,
though a quiet garden
of what-ifs still lingers.
and if our paths cross again,
beyond a night of easy laughter
and borrowed friendship -
you know what?
the older me
is no longer afraid
to take that leap,
to startle the quiet air.
i will wait until then
for our spring to arrive -
not early,
not mistaken,
but true -
with wrinkles,
with louder laughter,
with songs
we are finally brave enough
to sing
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - False Spring. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. Thank you for the visits and comments. Have a good day!
