you said it will only be a few days . . .
I counted the fingers on my left
then my right hand
then once again, and once again
Spring bloomed all around me
like the flowers on the caressing sheets
that comforted me each night
Summer burned with the moist air of sleepless
visions long and countless, hot and restless
Fall ripened our bed with blankets
like the growing red peas beneath the Ormosia
round, solid, and delicious.
the Chinese called them "love peas"
for thousands of years.
Winter whispered purity
beneath the blankets of snow and promises.
Tonight, as I climbed into bed
alone,
I left the light on for you
again.
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