Morning mist drips down my skin;
Curls my strands about its fingers.
Memories: I’ll recount to you how they wrapped me up
Like a present, in warm winter cloudy skies, early enough
To be alone with that sweet recollection of the walks we took.

The imprint of your hand…
I’m bewitched to say it’s still there.
The scent of you, in weather like this,
Is new, like freshly showered brown hair.

Our time apart will simply let me
Appreciate you more, the next time I see you.
So don’t wait up. I’ll dawn my shoes,
Pick up my pace, and run right through
The next few months, to you.