and he doesn’t mind
when rain falls and
soaks his denim shirt,
its faded hues darkening,
pressed close against
his chest -
like breath
that I inhale.
and when he cries
I taste the salt
of a thousand
rainy days,
when walking
over soft wet sand
he seeks to
hold my hand.
He says 'no matter'
and still will smile
when cold hands
touch his heart,
undoing all the
buttons from his
faded old blue shirt
©EMG06
Emma Gascoyne
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/faded-denim-shirt/
