6:53 a.m.
You read the paper
at your desk,
I have green tea
on the couch,
day after rain,
more due, but
last night’s storm
didn’t arrive.
Things are calm
between us as well.
Two days before
our fourteenth Valentine’s.
We plan lunch
to be frugal,
avoid the crowds.
Forego the out-of-towner
out of frugality too.
Falling asleep
I burst into tears
at my fear of death.
You roll over to hold me,
brush the hair from my face
and kiss my forehead,
saying nothing.
What is there to say?
Things are strangely
better than they’ve
ever been.