For Emma, Forever Ago

It was winter.
We had been standing out,
For some time,
Under the night sky
Vaguely looking up at the stars.

It was cold.
I was thinking for my fingers:
How I wished I’d worn gloves,
Until your hand came
Snaking after mine,
Your fingers warm and delicate.

Our breath lifted lightly from our lips,
Mixing, mingling in the moonlight
As I tried to forget
What words tasted like
Dropping from the tongue.



  1. qnefertiti · November 15, 2009

    bon iver fan? (:

  2. zaphodfreek · November 20, 2009


  3. qazse · December 3, 2009

    A very sweet moment captured in your poem. I especially liked, “I was thinking for my fingers:” – as if they were your children (and her fingers her’s).

  4. zaphodfreek · December 30, 2009

    Thanks Qazse.

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