my hand tingled in your firm grip
as we gazed at our reflections in the cold lake below,
faces close, winter coats concealing our hearts.
letting me go, you bent at the knees,
carefully selected a round, black stone
and dropped it gently to splosh and sink,
sending ripples across the water,
blurring our faces so they seemed to
separate from themselves and each other.
the light changed, and our images disappeared.
in silence we turned from the scene.
icy hands thrust in our lonely pockets
lonely hearts warmed only by wool
while behind us the ripples expanded
And that, friends, is my poem for this weeks challenge from Esther
©Jane Paterson Basil