To walk in the mountains

To feel comfortable with silences on the long drive there

For conversation to poor on your passions and your interests

To hear the concerns on your children and the ones you love

To look at your empty shoes

To’putt putt’ on the river

To smell your hair

To touch the back of my fingers under your ear and brush your jaw, when that’s enough

To see your cheeks blushed when the baths to hot

To watch you absent mindedly eat toast

To look at your face with your hair blowing into your eyes and the corners of your mouth while you walk backward on the beach

To hear you curse over some trifle gone wrong

To feel silly worrying, with my phone on the fritz and you two minutes late.

AG (Circa June2011)

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This is lovely, Andy!

Hey Glen, there's something eternal about this poem. I like the way it evolves. Good stuff



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