journal entries - 2 - Marie

On cold winter mornings
       I would walk Marie
             to school.


The snow,
piled high
        along the sidewalk, …


… brilliantly white,
         nearly blinding
              in the sun.

That night
the wind had drifted the snowfall
as though a sculpture
      had shaped it …


… with loving hands
                into an ocean wave.
 

I was lost
     in conversation,
studying
     the contours of her face …


… when she took my arm
and placed it
       'round her waist …


… and told me of a boy
         who had hurt her
              deeply.


I knew
    loneliness …


… but did not know
       love
           well enough …


… to comprehend
         what she was
                going through.

 

© 2019, Gary Browe, All Rights Reserved

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