Bonding Time

a free verse poem

We pluck some of the seedling plants to make room for the others, and I tell you my hair has gotten too long.

You disagree.

You tell me that the book without words made you cry, and I tell you, “Me, too,” but without saying anything aloud.

Your hand rests on my thigh just above my knee as I drive. Your touch reminds me of sunshine.

I think I can smell the pulse under your skin. You show me how it’s right beneath the surface.

I make you promise to dance with me in the kitchen.

So many disparate truths build a life and a happy one at that.

I don’t know where to go from here.

You say, “Forward, of course.”


Photo by Dua Chuot via Pexels

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