Seventeen

It was very late.
That was why we whispered.
Did not want to wake father or mother.

It was a little past midnight.
You should really crawl back out the window.
Sleep in your own bed. Tonight, I mean.

That was when you rolled over.
Pulled all the covers off me.
My skin goose-bumped in the chill air.

Retaliation would be loud. So, no.
Not until tomorrow.
Somewhere on campus I’ll get you.

I don’t know what I’ll do.
Too cold for water balloons.
Tie you up in your lengthy scarf?

Maybe. Maybe I’ll
pry some of the covers away
and snuggle close to your warm skin.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s