February decided to stay a while, so we
got used to salting the frozen rain
on the doorstep. Crunchy grass began our
days. Our heavy coats never made it back
to the closet. I knew that if you called
to me the hot water must be done, and if your
guitar was away when I walked
in the door, you'd heard me
coming. Your words were like
footsteps upstairs. You walked like you
were facing the wind. The radiator
covered midnight silence. I'd fall asleep
aware of the light
in the bathroom where you shaved your
growing beard.
No comments:
Post a Comment