Snuggling Beneath the Geraniums

When we snuck into the greenhouse
the sound of raindrops on the window panes
was so comforting.

Why we walked on tip-toe I'll never know.
I could hear the wind outside. The dark clouds
reminded me of Reverend Sykes
Sunday morning sermon.

We were just ten then. And everytime it thundered
You grabbed my hand. The comforting
had turned to fear.

The branches of the old Oak snapped
like bebe shot against the greenhouse windows.
When we hunkered down beneath the geraniums
I thought I heard the flowers growing.

Something else was growing too.
You were all freckles then: your red hair
your hand in mine...

We musta kissed twenty times
before the rain stopped.
When we tip-toed past the flowers
and out the door

you winked a me. Now,
in a greenhouse of our own, we still
tip-toe midst the flowers.

And every now and then, you'll find us
snuggling beneath
the geraniums...

c. Douglas Fireman