Seasonal And Holidays Past Journal

Winter Love

He sleeps like a baby
most nights.
Tells me not to dare
wake him.
I dream of Yuri Zhivago
in a train car peering
over to a Russian couple
locked in each other's arms
holding on for dear life
in front of a shit hole.
He reads like a blind man
but he tells me he can
fix things. A handyman
around the house who is
good with a hammer and
nails. He made bongo drums
in shop class. There is
a peaceful feeling.
Life is good.
If he had not wanted me
he would not be here.
He says so every day.
He will leave if things
are not good.
This love is as straight
as Cupid's arrow.
That's just how straight
it gets.
As my player piano fingers
melt into his armpits
then he is right.
Women are made for it.
To do the best they can do,
loving their soul mates
in a white linen winter.