Just existing.
As usual, you know, walking down the damp sidewalks.
Running sticks over fence posts until my hand is numb.
It reminds me of that day where everything was perfect, and we
held hands so tightly until the feeling in them started to drain.
I always think about you when I’m walking,
scraping my feet across the cement, making oversized tracks in the snow.
Do you remember those pictures you took
last winter?
I love it how you try to look thoughtful, because
you know you don’t have to try.
Passing the people sleeping under trees.
Sometimes when you sleep next to me
I don’t sleep. Well, not literally.
I sleep in the thought that you are lost in dreams,
but not far away.
I savor the moment as minutes walk by,
and I wish I could see what your dreams
consist of.
Almost home now, but never really home.
The only place that’s real is in your arms,
on that favorite spot of mine on your chest.
I can feel your heart when I am there and I like how it
reassures me you are alive and well.
Opening the door to be welcomed by the creek of the spring in the frame.
Someday I’ll be opening the door to you,
to your heart,
to those big arms of yours.
Please never leave.