Strangers

There we sat
Upon my bed,
Hand clasped,
Legs entwined,

Heads bent forward
Enacting a ritual
Which could stand
The test of time

Gently, she stroked
The edges of my
Bandaged fingers,

Sympathetic disposition
Graced her form, as
I pouted out the tale
Of my injuries.

Bits of stories sprinkled
With memories were
Exchanged, open, fluid,
Gentle.

Searching, stuttering, stroking
Our way past strangers, into familiarity.

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2 thoughts on “Strangers

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