One without.

We can’t be one without.

I saw you at a cabin.
You sat with your legs dangling over the deck,
not nearly touching.
I saw the drink you mixed and wondered, rye?
You’re too smart for beer, I see.
I thought I might extend,
my hand.
Take chances.
I wondered if you’d feel the same.

We’d snap photos and compare stories in the field,
while in the field.
I’d wonder if you felt the same.
I keep picturing that counter overlooking
the water.
Where I laid my hands and waited.
Where you entered
my heart and didn’t leave.

M.

 

Poetry

Mandy Joy Poole View All →

Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.

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