Site icon Angie's Diary

On State Street in Your City


He clasped his fingers
together, we curled every
other one, your hand  holding on
to mine as if I would run.

Our buttons, buttoned and
touching a blue and white

Our eyes peer straight ahead;
his gaze, higher and
my eyes gaze upward.

Left foot – black shoe,
tied near wide pant legs.
Left foot – shines with satin
bows;  twelve inches above

Those hats we wore
kept our heads warm
only our face showed,
my chin lifted –
his chin straight.

It would appear
we were in a hurry –
but to where –
I have forgotten.

Exit mobile version