poetry by j matthew waters

touch is a memory

going out on top
& coming to terms
w/who you were & what
you may become

touch is but a memory
best held in the sunlight
arm reaching toward the sky
& one eye open

cyan clouds & turquoise sea
smoke on the horizon
calling you to walk again
as if for the first time

january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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