Fourteen

Written by: Don Schaeffer



Classically gray day
pre Spring trees
cast in silouhette.
Sitting in shadow
side by side
behind the wall,
one of them
puts right
hand above left
knee of the other,
slides palm slowly up.
Heartbeats. Ticktock breath.
Feels flesh soften,
moisten, smooth.
One looks ahead.
The other eyes over,
downward. A parting of thighs.
Future waits.
Mysteries near solving.