Our rockers creak,
A metronome on the wooden planks.
I hear you turn the page.
You don’t feel my eyes,
My smile.
I lay my book in my lap and curl my
Toes over the cool, stone ledge.
I squint and catch the sun
Melting into the Western sky.
The wind blows my bangs
Over my brow.
They tickle me.
Your full lips purse and smile
At a chipmunk skittering under our chairs,
Keeping her eye out
For our pretzel crumbs.
Reopening your book,
You stare at the page.
Your eyes don’t move.
The chipmunk scurries away.
I smile.
My shadow falls
On your open page.
