I walked in our house
And for the first time
In my entire life
Did I hear her whistle.

I stood there.
Listening.
And pictures of my boyhood
Reminisced in my head.
And I heard myself whistling.
I heard my 9 year old self
Whistling his way
To silence.

I remember the rain
And the door slightly open
Inviting me in
Leading my childhood
To its verge.

I remember them.
A Man and a Woman.
His flesh on her flesh.
Her lips on his neck.
His fingers on her thigh.
Her leg around his waist.

And I remember my mouth
Rounded with silence
As if they stole my whistle
To make out of it
Their melody.

And I never whistled again.

And she stood there
Smiling
Silent
As if my childhood memory
Had silenced her too.
She was beautiful
In her light yellow sundress
Barefoot
She looked even more beautiful
When she approached me
And touched my neck
To move my shirt aside.

She started to whistle again
Leaving little kisses
On my neck
Like little birds
Not caught but visiting - me
And bringing me back
The 9 year old boy
That I was.




-LynnAA