Poetry — 01 July 2012


Margaret Woodman-Russell


You taste like the first summer I ever drank ice coffee
and drove with my brand-new license, windows open, always.

I don’t have to wonder what you’re thinking,
I don’t have to wonder at all.

Adults speed over the little things
like kissing.

You slip your hand to the skin of my back.
I press my fingers against the taut muscle of your chest
and inhale.

I am thick in my familiar haze of codes and hints,
calculations and boasting,

when suddenly I see you clear and blue
like a child coming out of the pond:

Your smile is uncensored and unembellished,
plain and even pure:
You have made me sixteen again.

There’s no time for more,
not today and not tomorrow,
so I’ll just remember you like watermelon,
like sugar and water,
innocent and unadorned.


About Author

(2) Readers Comments

  1. Wow! After all I got a web site from where I
    be able to genuinely take useful facts concerning my study and

  2. I met a girl I once knew yesterday, and now perhaps I know what she was thinking…
    ; )~

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

× two = 14