Breath

The first warm breath mitigates her melancholy. I sustained my young love through another winter. She’s at the park. Canopy of still barren branches. Learning how her legs have atrophied, struggling to expand lungs against sharp jabs. She won’t run more than a mile. But she won’t be home for hours. Shirtless grad students playing Frisbee. She’ll stop, stretch by a nearby picnic table. Smooth white chests. Sit, lean back, rest her elbows atop the table. Her thankful grin sunward, eyes closed. Perked nipples. Her chest stretching the years-old t-shirt. She won’t come home for hours. Coffee on her breath.

Photo credit: Jon M