
Floating
Unsure of how much rain has fallen
I just hear the tapping on the pavement.
Unsure of where you’re sitting
Maybe a bit closer to the past.
When I roll the covers between my legs
When I press a night cooled hand to the side of your face
When the veil of time holds me from knowing all of you at once
I am floating.
Email me when Anna Robertson publishes or recommends stories