Melinda M. Sands

Outside

Blowing, blowing
Tangled hair
Her dress flies up over her head, and
As she returns it to its rightful place
She loses her papers.
They blow down the cobblestone path
And one gets stuck to a gentleman’s face --
It clearly catches him by surprise.
As she runs to retrieve it
His features come into view.
They look at each other knowingly,
Like only past lovers do. He hands her the page
And as she takes it from his hand
their fingers meet and ignite thoughts from long ago
With nights of tangled bed sheets
And dresses pulled overhead,
Tangled as her hair is now.


Inside

I catch a swift wind which
Almost knocks me from my feet.
Clothes in disarray —
Are my panties showing?
Ugh — I lose my precious cargo
To the unforgiving breeze.
Chasing, chasing
Papers running amok like
Wild children with no worries.
A man holds one of the pages
As I draw near I see
A face I used to love
With short whiskers which once
Reddened my cheeks.
A brush of the hand
And I feel pangs of longing
To have red cheeks once more.