a certain sunset

captured our arms in the glow

of trees and sky and flames from the

fire

i stood behind you

leaning against me with your back

your hands held my wrists loosely

yours, up

and even

with your shoulders

sure fingers

loosely holding my wrists

(my wrists)

my arms pretty and

dark

folded

softly

about your neck

arms hands neck chest

as through a warm burnt orange filter

(but there was no filter)

there was never a filter -

holding loosely onto my wrists

(wrists)

there -

that stance

just

too familiar

then

-looking back now-

most sepia sunset

seasofme010214octad

nearly forgot to add something here.

...it was a beautiful picture that i had framed and gave to them as a gift. the pic in the poem, that is.