Pictures of You

You sat, tanned legs extended in front of you, I sat cross-legged,

A little life sitting between us looking at a book full of horsies and duckies and tractors.

Your hand was so close.  I could have just reached out to it.  Wanted to.

But what would you have done?  Pulled away?  Smiled?  Held mine?

No.  Yes.  Maybe.

The moment passed but it still plays out in forward and reverse in my head

Along with countless other reluctant inaction.

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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