Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

for g.

he looks over the sea of his morning coffee mug
to her other-side-of-the-table shore
and says,

“Your touch heals me. Did you know that? Your hands, the way they hold some deeper warmth? Even when I put my bad arm around you, I feel you healing me. No one else can do that. Of course, you know that…”

she smiles as she looks up from her book
then into her tea cup

considering the injuries sustained

following honesty up to his blue eyes

she loves this one more than the rest

knowing where it all came from

her mother’s piano fingers pick up a lavender napkin
to blot her lips
as she says,

“Then I won’t let go…”

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