We need to separate
to see the life we’ve made,
to leave our house
where someone waits, patiently,
warm beneath the sheets;
to don layers of armor,
sweater, coat, mittens, scarf,
to stride down the frozen road,
putting distance between us,
this cold winter morning,
to look back and see,
on the hilltop, our life,
lit from inside.
Published with kind permission of the poet.
We are living now our regrets and our failures, the ache of what we wish could be again,…
We touch one another with defter fingers at night. Rain sounds different, its steady falling…
Philosophers shilly-shally, but it’s true: you are me; I am you. This dust, these rays,…
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