Wish

It never happened.
We never walked together
through the woods
commenting
on our favorite seasons.

His broad, sturdy hands
never brushed mine
in the quiet exchange
of a purple wildflower.

I never watched
as he rescued a small robin—
lifting it gingerly
toward the cupped palm
of dried mud and twigs.

He never took my hand
to help me cross the creek
over a fallen tree
as he steadied himself
on small islands of stone.

I never caught him
watching me with curiosity
out of the corner of my eye
as I gazed upward through the trees.

We never got caught in the rain
a mile off the trail, at dusk,
or found an abandoned shelter
without windows or a door
which we could safely lock.

We never acted like modest children
wringing out our clothes,
and he never asked
if I was warm enough.

I never told him that I wasn’t.

 

 

DeMaris Gaunt
8-12-15

 

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