She opened her hands
and showed me
a wren's egg.
It was small
and fragile.
I'd not seen
one before.
She moved a finger
over it turning
it gently.
I wished I
was that egg,
that she may
touch me gently too.
The nest
had been disturbed
she said;
just this egg left.
I touched the shell
with my finger,
sensing her palm
beneath, soft and pale.
She asked
if I would like it
for my collection.
I said I would.
She put it in my palm,
her fingers
touching my skin.
I closed my hand
over it.
She smiled
and her dark eyes
lit up.
I placed the egg gently
in a small box I carried
and put it in my pocket.
Over the field
a tractor moved;
cows mooed nearby.
I wanted to ask
for a single kiss,
but was too shy.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
She opened her hands
and showed me
a wren's egg.
It was small
and fragile.
I'd not seen
one before.
She moved a finger
over it turning
it gently.
I wished I
was that egg,
that she may
touch me gently too.
The nest
had been disturbed
she said;
just this egg left.
I touched the shell
with my finger,
sensing her palm
beneath, soft and pale.
She asked
if I would like it
for my collection.
I said I would.
She put it in my palm,
her fingers
touching my skin.
I closed my hand
over it.
She smiled
and her dark eyes
lit up.
I placed the egg gently
in a small box I carried
and put it in my pocket.
Over the field
a tractor moved;
cows mooed nearby.
I wanted to ask
for a single kiss,
but was too shy.
A boy and girl and an egg 1961
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