coming in the house
with sand between your toes
or mud covering your boots,
you may pause
by my old needlepoint
and long for vague days
cradled in my arms,
singing on your father’s shoulders,
woods, dunes,
day dreaming on long highways,
prairie, corn stalks clicking by
2 responses to “And our longings will meet”
I really like the soft focus here on who “you” and “my” might be, a blurring of past and present signaled by the lovely title.
Thank you. It sometimes come in bumbling flood.