Staircase at Fifteen
Ascending, her centrifugal
influence captures me
and I follow,
breathless,
witless, wordless,
despite all longing
and shared
discretions, in spite
of the thundering
pulse
and the incessant
demand to act
or run.
She pauses, looks
down, sees
nothing.
Suddenly freed,
spinning off
and slowing down,
shrinking,
far below, on equal
footing but so
apart,
never to meet
in truth, unable
to define direction or
motive, I remain
fixed as she moves
higher, far away, close
but up,
always up.
O at the Edges 
That jazz best. That luvvv longing. Works like a charm!
LikeLiked by 2 people
BEAT I meant!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That jazz beat. That luvvv longing. Works like a charm!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Dan. I would not relive those days (though I wouldn’t mind some of the physical flexibility).
LikeLike
Intriguing … scenes from long ago have the ability to invade current times, don’t they? I have a couple of 15-yr-old “movies” that periodically replay (unpredictable, startling timing) – I guess such are lessons that need reinforcing? Our brains delivering parallels to ponder?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh, those scenes are sometimes so startlingly clear!
LikeLike