The First Storm

The light is low,

and your eyes are

settled on some unknown distance.

I listen to the waves,

waiting for something.

I’m not sure what,

it could be anything.

 

You hold my hand

and I hold yours,

like I am leaving.

Between the sky,

and the sea below,

everything

that means anything

is with me.

 

That’s when you finally turn

and look at me;

your eyes so deep,

that I think I might fall for miles

into their dark mystery.

We stare at each other,

our mouths slightly open,

as if to speak,

but there are no sounds coming.

I don’t think I could speak,

even if I could find the words.

 

Somewhere to the Northwest,

thunder rolls,

and the wind begins to blow.

Cold.

The quickly moving clouds

begin their march

across the horizon.

 

We are holding each other, now.

Holding tight,

and the warmth between us

feels good,

with that cold wind blowing.

Feels like love.

Feels protected.

Feels like

we might make it through this

for a little while.

 

We settle back

in our little seat

on the porch that faces west,

and we watch the ocean.

Angry waves,

and the first drops of rain.

This is not our first storm,

and it will not be

our last.

 

HG – 2019

 

2 thoughts on “The First Storm

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