"That day"

That day, I felt like dancing.

Smokey clouds over head, a canopy of
abundant rolling energy,
restless and peaceful, all at once.

One reckless step, then another
into the deluge
swathed in another’s jacket,
since you were too stubborn to
wear one of your own.

Your eyes laugh as
you shake your head,
repeatedly insisting;

My hair drips water down my back,
spilling onto my face,
teardrops,

But there’s no sadness here.
Not yet.

That day was warmth.

You were right.

That day, cold fingertips reached
to touch the sky,
touch your face.

That day, I fell short.