Blue Denim
Dana Donley
The shadow of a grey-haried woman
watched me in the mirror
as I fumbled with the last button
on my cotton blouse.
A steady stream of rain echoed
through the drain spout outside.
Images of another rainy day
flooded my memory.
The smell of dampness in your hair,
the chill that pulsed through my young body
as my fingers touched the cold metal buttons
on your blue denim shirt.
The fire in the hearth reflected in your eyes.
The room was warm, but your heart was cold.
I could taste the sweetness of the kiss
we never shared.
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