sweet tea

i used to look down when i saw you,

afraid that any push would endear me to your hooks

for a lifetime, that if i saw you up close

it would flood my senses,

push water under an inevitably apathetic bridge.

we never spoke in full sentences;

i never learned you middle name and you

certainly didn’t know my biggest fears. but i

am certain that our eyes didn’t lie,

that our comfortable silence wasn’t foolishness

but caution. like the wind, we came and went,

strengths and feelings lingering behind.

now, when i walk i look for signs:

diamond shaped paths or a the self conscious way

you shook your legs when you were nervous or sad.

the other day i thought i heard you from above,

the changes in your breath mimicked by the leaves

on a strangely solemn summer afternoon.

i wasn’t mad when you left,

wasn’t pleased with where we paused, but i have faith

in big people. i have pride in honest promises.