Tired Fists

It’s gone back; you look good under a sunbrella
And it’s sucking at your cheeks I’m kind of
Jealous but it just wants your freckles I’ll let it
Kiss you, if you promise to come back when
My fingers graze your hands, I won’t shiver and quit
Now we carry what we’ve lost in our fists
Warm on our memories, digits dancing down your wrist
When the time’s right I’ll nudge you to drop when