Valentine’s Day

chris/ February 14, 2005

When the darkness comes, and the cold with it
the friendly giggles of the joyful, the playful
are torturous and cruel;
I think about the river you spoke of
that separates us from those who suffer no more.

I think that I would like to cross with you,
the echoes of joy still fresh in my ears.
But who, having a companion for the travel,
would embark on such a journey?

We lie in bed at night, curled up like overgrown children,
alone and afraid of the dark
with no Mother big enough to scoop us up and hold us in her arms.

Could the relief of another’s embrace
last beyond the time spent together?

Or would it be nothing more than a light rain
when we long for a flood to carry us out to sea?

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