I never told you.

During that summer night on the neighbor’s porch, the first year we’d grown too old to catch fireflies, I hesitated that morning in hiking up my skirt when we waded, knee-deep, into the cold creek for an errant fishing line.

You strummed me a tune on your guitar; it shivered through me.


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

19 thoughts on “Shiver”

      1. I appreciate that, and it’s good to see people are actually reading and enjoying your work, because it is quite emotive stuff.

  1. Was I there? Cause it sure felt like I was. Great evocation of memory and emotion.

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