Friday, September 04, 2015

Poetry Friday: Reading Late


This poem made me think of Atticus, and for that I love it dearly.

Reading Late
by Jesse Graves

We walked between the ponds at World’s Fair Park
the first night we knew something definite had hold of us,

conversations reaching not much beyond favorite bands,
least favorite jobs. We had not held hands.

Nothing existed of our daughter, not yet a nameless dream,

(It's short -- go read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

The round up is at TeacherDance.

4 comments:

jama said...

You always share such wonderful poems. Lovely!

tanita✿davis said...

Oh, THAT. *sob*
What a lovely, lovely poem. That needs to be tucked in a lunchbox.

Linda Baie said...

Oh, about so much, Karen, Atticus and a tribute to our own lives, too. I somehow missed this from the Almanac, so glad that you shared it.

Mary Lee said...

I loved these lines best:

"This book we write together keeps me turning pages
deep into the night,"