Coffee brewing
reminds me of your
bittersweet, coffee-tinged
kisses.

Rain beating
a steady rhythm on the roof
takes me back to those
gentle movements

when we seemed
as one

when each kiss
breathed life into the next,
every touch
was a moment
lost in you.

Now and then,
in equal parts,
your memory burns
and soothes.

I always laugh at inappropriate times
there's never any reason or rhyme
why I'm fashionably late
and can't stand to wait
or why, as close as we are,
your nearness seems far.

Had we met before this day,
what would fate say?

That I'm always
a little too little, too late.

If truth be told
wandering souls
find just what they need
if only it leads
straight to
you and me.