220/365: The Nectar In My Hand


Deep breaths.
This is not you now.
Let's remember you standing in the tall grass with me
in the shade of a pine tree
before you opened your mouth,
that moment when you squeezed my hand a little,
which was a rare nectar to me then.
There was love in there,
the fellow-feeling kind.
I will remember you then
and breathe deep.
The nectar is still in my hand,
and we are forgiven.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com