A Romance

On the pond behind our houses,

hidden from view, we skated around

and around on a winter’s day.

I was awkward on my bladed feet

but you, graceful, an Olympian,

meant, perhaps, to impress me,

as we skated, skirting the edges

of the pond where the reeds

poked through and the ice was thin

and dangerous, skirting, too, perhaps,

a romance that never happened.