But for the journey

Admiring the gymnast on her yellow roadside balance,
turning to me smiling, arms outstretched–
longing to feel her pulse next to mine,
chest to chest– lost in her shoulder’s scent,
comforting me with clenched embrace–
gripping blades and smalls,
walking not for the destination, but the journey,
breathing little clouds in winter air–
sparkling, crystallizing, her and me.