Walking with You

By Stephen R. Gorton

I left my work

to walk

snow paths with you.

Our feet

marked satin sounds

beneath

a crystal blue,

the sharp air sweet

to breathe. I touched

a frosted tree

branch, smiling

as white flakes fell

(How small

yet delightful

brief joys can be!)

like stars

to tangle in

your hair.

Coming back to

tasks undone,

I’m glad I left

my work to walk

with you,

the growing years

so short and few

when beauty can

be shared

with a small son.