I can see the pale white wall
With nothing painted or pinned
And I reel through memory
And come to you
And back to this bed
And the comforters are warm
And I feel at peace
But moreso
If you were beside me
Holding my heart in one hand
The other arm around my chest
Pinning me down
To what matters
To lovely summer days
And fresh air
And the bamboo forest
That sprung out
From around your home
And the days we'd spend
Brown from the sun
And muscles sore
From doing nothing
Floating on my father's
14 footer,
Sailboat and knowing
That the summer would be out last
And that the pale wall now
Is as empty as my bed.