Shoeless

A Poem by Wharton

A poem of youth and innocence

The sun scorched our virgin flesh
the shade of cinnamon,
and turned our hair to sandy brown
and arid like the summer hay.

The noontime heat beat down upon
and dried the creek to slime and mud
which gathered between our sinking toes
as we danced upon the clay.

We were born wild like the rag weed
which grew upon the banks
tall and thin and gangling
-- two reeds all arms and legs.

I did not have eyes, like later on
when desires woke to something new
before youth's urging, aching needs
destroyed this simple August scene.

We lay beneath the willow tree
on the bank of the dying creek
as heavy rays singed our skin
left exposed to the sun.

We shared our far-off, hazy dreams
which already had taken root,
that had I only listened then
would have saved me so much pain.

But then, beneath the willow tree
we were but two sprouting weeds,
with mud caked between our toes
before first love came in between.