Evening Swim - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
And there we were, in darkness, down by the river.
Four girls, four boys. A night away from town.
A cooling breeze was causing her to shiver,
or was the prospect of the lovely evening gown,
to be dispensed with on this balmy summer night
a cause for nerves, it may be at that age.
When things are new, exciting and 'not right'.
It was decided that the moon was much too nosy,
as we could see all creases and each others' cracks.
I noticed upper cheeks were flushed and looked quite rosy,
the bigger ones were white and more relaxed.
The dresses hung on branches in a jiffy,
boys struggled with their clumsy boxer shorts.
The whole idea, in hindsight was quite iffy,
but had its value as a lifestyle test of sorts.
At last we told the girls to face the lake,
and not to turn around for all and any reason.
So that we could untangle our stakes
and rush into the water, it was summer season.
We had assumed that cold would shrivel matters,
to dampen this embarrassing amplification.
We swam around, therefore our plans were just a bit in tatters,
and many silver tinkling stars brought heavy titillation.
Excited eyes were feasting on white skin.
The water fights had started now for real.
I grabbed my girl with courage by the chin
and kissed her lovely lips as if to seal
tonight's conspiracy to let it all hang out,
to rub our bodies up to warm and tender breasts.
To hope the moon would hide behind a cirrhus cloud,
as we STOOD in shallow water feeling blessed.
Looking back to days of youthful inhibition,
had we missed the main meal, munching on dessert?
'Twas the company that kept plans from fruition,
of something ominous that started as a flirt.
And one more fact I want to bring to your attention
is that the coldest water doesn't always shrink,
the vivid memory remains, deserves a public mention.
We never cowered for the next few weeks, I think.
Comments about Evening Swim by Herbert Nehrlich
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You