A poem by Julia R. DeStefano
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