Those eyes of yours
told me stories,
As your strong hands
gently guided me-
down to the river,
Your fingers laced with mine,
& Autumn breathed-
a smooth crisp breeze-
& almost a shiver
to anyone listening,
& stirring the heat-
Between soft words
and a beautiful silence //
Swirling my hair in the air,
As my forehead pressed
against your chest…
And we danced.
Gretchen Leary (McIntire) 