Freshwater You

 Freshwater You

I cherish the time I rang you 

when I had to drop a client at 

Freshwater or Florida and maybe 

mumbled something about a hug. 

Maybe. Maybe. Sounds like me.

You came out in a knit top that, 

so unlike you, had a little hole in it 

or was, maybe I don’t remember, 

could it have been inside out?

It only occurs to me now, years later, 

at the writing of this poem, that you, 

working from home, had maybe not 

been dressed for the weather, rushed 

out to meet me grinning also anyways,

to trade a quick hug and three minutes 

of “Hey.” And “Hey you.” and how do you do?

I hope this rings a bell with you,

or tunes up a crystal bowl singing

Freshwater, Freshwater, Freshwater you

…

for Katie

(c) DLWhite

10/11/23

2:00 am