Kid Gloves

I was better
for a while
that space of time
when I could reliably recall
just how long it had been

Last I held her hand
was in a light rain
a season of light rain
cold enough for gloves
when we were apart

Only the second time
I’d been selfish enough
to reach out
a lacing of fingers
a shape I forget

That charity of touch
is slipping away
confidence tucked
into outgrown vessels
waiting once more for spring

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