residual heat
by lassymac
the space between
grows cold
we warm our hands
over the early days
and tug the blanket
closer and further
away.
the space between
grows cold
we warm our hands
over the early days
and tug the blanket
closer and further
away.
Love this poem. As sparse as its theme.
A perfectly captured truth!
Ouch. This touches a bitter truth.