Denim Shirt

and he doesn't mind
when rain falls and
soaks his denim shirt,
its faded hues darkening,
pressed close against
his chest -
like breath
that I inhale.

and when he cries
I taste the salt
of a thousand
rainy days,
when walking
over soft wet sand
he seeks to
hold my hand.

He says 'no matter'
and still will smile
when cold hands
touch his heart,
undoing all the
buttons from his
faded old blue shirt



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 580 times
Written on 2014-04-24 at 18:22

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
What a wonderful poem! Beautifully written and filled with vivid images.
2014-04-24



I love the sound of this! One of those memorable moments in life that the smell of salt on a wet shirt will always bring back.
A beautiful write. :)
Ashe
2014-04-24