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Friday, August 31, 2012

Holding Patterns

such a strange affair
caught between wisps
of forgotten words
lost in the shadows
the expectations of yesterday
too heavy a burden to bear
secret looks of contained longing
a brief electric touch
the ebb and flow
that pushed us together
then pulled us apart
never really free
never really claimed
stuck in holding patterns
released long ago

In response to Three Word Wednesday and ABC Wednesday

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Ghost of a Hand

Sometimes,
in glimpses,
the little red-headed girl,
hand clasped in mine
as I pulled her along,
peeks out
from the woman's fa├žade.
The ghost of a hand,
always reaching for mine,
whispers across
the one that always reached back.
Two lost little girls
against the world,
now learning the dance
of holding on while letting go.