Barefoot

I loved you as
The child (whose
Mother has been gone
For ages now)
Loves the stranger who
Waves to her from
Across the street.

We were strangers then, too.
Talking of how things
Should have been-
How they would have been if
They had gone as we had
Always planned.
How strange it is to think now,
That one false move that sent us falling,
Empty handed,
Into that sacrificial dance, in which
You took me by the arm so gently
And gave me everything you had.

I remember how
We walked through the garden.
Hand in hand.
Soul in soul.
It was hot-
We had taken our shoes off and
Left them by the creek.

Our bare feet were so calloused then,
From the sticks and stones
That Life had thrown upon our paths,
But we would not be bothered by
Those petty aches and pains.
You picked a yellow flower and
Tucked it behind my ear.
And as the cold water rushed over my
Pinky toes,
I knew that this was all that mattered.