In the cold, dark of January, I remembered you the most. As the chill snapped bones like branches, as the afternoons bathed themselves in gray, as the birds and the backs shook, so did my lips around your name. I'm so happy January is almost over now.
the scent of a rose the light of a sun the glowing from a moon the dust from a star the tablecloth on your table the tree's roots cutting into the earth a world behind a window the rain sounding from comfort sea salt spraying coarse sand an aesthetic what a bore