Day # 109:More Pictures

#109

I’d forgotten how pretty he was

I’d not forgotten how soft his skin felt.

nor the gentle kisses on the back porch in Berkeley.

But I’d forgotten how pretty he was.

I can still hear his slight Southern accent

His slow speech

His warm arm resting near me

Always near me.

 Don’t remember the end

A Risk game never completed

on the dining room table on Butterfield Rd.

An attempt at skinny dipping with another girl.

I’d forgotten how pretty he was.

I’d forgotten how much his laugh

Comforted me, how in love I was;

Taller in my brown suede cowboy boots

He sang me Cris Williamson

I don’t remember anything

About the way we parted.

I’d forgotten how pretty he was.