Roisin’s Telling 2

The wind’s coming in the cracks now.

The wind’s shifted as it does.

 I am skinned with it. 

This is when Peg ‘d gather me up with a laugh and tell me to stop the complaining. 

She was the worst weaver in the county and her blanket couldn’t keep out a cool whiff. 

But her full body was warm with comfort and her arms held my breasts 

until the heat consumed us both 

and afterwards we slept. 

About alicebarrett

Small town writer
This entry was posted in love poetry, Roisin's Telling and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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