Steel still feels cool in this balmy room,
while rain spray spatter paints temporary patterns on the table outside.
The droplet wreathed pines seem eternal.
Sentinels offering shelter
from the wet curtain exposure.
Cloud sprites cavort in the open
reaching under the meager cover,
like the cold wet fingers of a long dead lover, or a drop of regret
from another life...
I'm glad I am warm, here, inside.