
Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko
we go outside into
the cold, October street
crisp, flat evening
like our
voices could break it if we
wanted
but we don’t whisper
we laugh and count
1 2 3 4
1 2 3 4
and you teach me how to dance
holding hands and
tapping our feet together
rhythmically
and the old couples walk
past us and stare
and we say
let them
we’re only a memory
and this night is so
fragile it could weep
and we are so perfectly in it
stumbling and laughing and
getting the moves all wrong.
About the Creator
Sean Bass
A poet and author from Liverpool, I have been published at dreamofshadows.co.uk and love to write.
I am extremely appreciative of anyone who reads my work. Thank you.


Comments (1)
I like the simplicity here in your piece - warm and terrific!