After showing me how to swing a golf club,
you walked me out into the street
under a huge two tone umbrella,
and the sound of heavy rain on nylon
made me smile in spite of myself.
I couldn't get the key to work the car door;
my shaking fingers betrayed me,
and the slick metal handle felt so foreign
when all I wanted to touch was
your warm skin, and the cotton of your clothes.
Through the spokes of the umbrella
our eyes soft-focussed 'til I drew breath,
crossed my fingers, and put my lips on yours;
once, twice and again a little deeper
until the noise of the rain was forgotten.
By the time I found myself again
my bare feet were cold and skirt hem wet
and I was ankle-deep in the rushing drain.
My knees went weak with tenderness
as your fingers in my hair subsided.
I drove away, your words echoing
"Oh, I was in another world then ..."
and the smile that broadened my face
looked back at me from the rear view mirror
as a sun breaking through months of rain.