The Railing
He turned me
so we faced out from the small porch
leaning
looking to the grape arbor in the moonlight
over the empty yard.
Skin to skin we watched the night
falling
content to be out of breath
tired
in love
hot in the August heatwave
but not lost.
Slowly
he pushed hard against me
burying his face into my hair
already missing what he thought was home
but was only
shelter.
Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009
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