The Meeting
I walk from here
You walk from there
And somewhere in the middle
far away from both of us
we meet on neutral ground.
In the dim light of a street lamp
only the soft flutter of snow
accompanies our tentative hellos
full of longing
heavy with promise
We walk slowly
talk little
arms entwined through thick winter coats
sharing heat through layers of wet wool
and wondering
when one of us will be ready
to walk all the way
from here to there
or there to here.
(The author has recently moved from burying her poetry on a nightstand to sharing it at workshops.)
