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.)