Voices fall silent when the rain stops ,
Like you, inside your fortress, trembling
In the cold, yelling and
Making a mess.
But don’t you feel the warmth
Of the summer days?
Must I follow you with blankets and flowers?
I wish you’d come to me
On your own….
But those small connections
Have still not settled
And we’re alone,
Not in separation, but waiting, side by side
In stations, filthy with discarded paper bags,
For someone…a train,or a ticket master..or perhaps
Just a flightless pigeon,
to slow down and cross
our crooked paths ..