Water wrinkles



River water is wrinkled, the skin of an old man, a new baby, like the skin that takes us by surprise and we say, is that really mine, remembering suddenly the peach-smoothness never noticed of years before. Surfaces crack, sun-baked mud in the fields, the rippling traces of a fallen stone pushing to the bank, my face, yours, with lines and folds that never were there before. I run my finger from the wing of your nose to the dimpled corner of your mouth. You smile, and the cracks, lines, faults disappear like the years.


Liquid light ripples

amid turgid green tresses

breeze tastes of blue waves.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

27 thoughts on “Water wrinkles”

  1. And we wrinkle with lines of lived9 lives, deep love and laughter lays them there, wracked sadness and fear make them multiply. They are the proof of having experienced life. We have to respect and embrace them.

  2. I think I’m wrinkled like river water Jane. I won’t bother with a face lift because of the scaffolding. Maybe one of the tightening creams I’m told Anusol is best for that which is fair enough since my face has been described as a bum.
    Have a great week,
    xxx Massive Hugs xxx

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