Old hands

Old hands hold tight, remember smooth skin when we first met. Remember missing you when you went away. Riding a motor scooter forty miles to go home for the summer, and you cycled after me.

Smelling blossom when we walked home to the student flats. A stolen kiss. Our history, together. The cats we’ve owned, the cycle rides. Buying a tandem, selling a tandem because the chain kept falling off.

Camping at minus 7 near Clitheroe. Snowy nights. Two pairs of trousers and three jumpers under canvas. Bike trailers and cycle clubs.

Life keeps going. Work, houses, learning. We keep together, stay together.

3 thoughts on “Old hands

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