Into the corn we go,
hand in hand-
chasing maize,
chasing days.

You, on your tiptoes
and dress held high-
laughing,
freckles dancing

I just stand back,
admiring
watching
the sweet citrus sun
tackle you from behind.
Her golden fingers
wrapping you
holding you
warming you

Oh, how I wish it was me

05/07/2011

Posted on 05/08/2011
Copyright © 2024 Gregory R Schelske