Separate hands curled around
the comfort of steamy coffee
hidden in thick, white porcelain mugs,
brief touches over sugar packets-
the curve of your smile.
–
We spoke of the sandhill cranes,
their mating dance,
the awkward beauty
of strutting, stretching, arching –
the lake edged with sand.
–
I watched your red tongue’s tip
flashing between white teeth,
mouthing words I do not hear,
only your lips slow dancing-
until the coffees are cold.
–
And alone,
I walk home in the dark.
–
–
–
Having formatting issues for some reason. 🙂 Must be not logging in for so long … revenge of the wordpress!