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