It was always warm

When the winter sun

That slate gray orb

Had lain down on the job

And left it to us

To find the fire

I found that comfort

In your willing arms

That knew none save

Your loving words

I find myself so cold

When you are gone

I miss my fingertips

Dancing on your breast;

I miss your lips

Awakening me;

I miss the knowing

Of your beating heart

You said not to mourn

And so I smile

Into the icy wind

Keeping that promise

To a ghost I’ll never see

Yet, you haunt me anyway

01/28/2004

Posted on 01/28/2004
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch