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The Letter
September 4, 2011
I still remember the field where we first met.
Lost beyond the endless forest, we found our hidden garden.
Do you remember?
Milky palms slowly rooted together,
Snaking between salty webs of moisture.
You do remember?
My shaking innocence brought cold sweat, I remember.
We weren't much of anything,
Tiny colors in the planes of gutted valleys.
Splashes of cream scattered within the garden.
Soft flesh,
I remember.
Baby's skin
New to sight and sound, skin untouched by light.
We weren't much of anything.
Not by blood, no, not by love.
But we both still remember. Don't you?
© Justin W., Milford, CT
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