A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


I looked at this boy

radiant with my legs in his lap.

His soft gaze traveling from me

to the television and back again.

His fingertips dancing upon the worlds

of my silken skin.

Running their own bases.

Thinking of more than just scoring.

And I wanted to ask him:

“How is it that you are peace like a crystal river?

A library after hours?

The North Star?”

Hoping he’d let me drink it down

as eagerly as Alice did.

Because I’d never known a creature so gentle.

The combination to my intricate locks

written on his compass heart.

Easy like a Sunday morning drive

while it whispers to mine,

Shhhh, settle down

before offering it a place to rest and a pillow.

But we don’t say such things outside of poetry,

so I squeezed him tighter.

© Julia R. DeStefano