PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This morning I woke cold
in your arms my eyes
when they opened
were blurred and dry

across the room I saw why -
we had forgotten to close the window
we? no, I,
sorry, my mistake.

I curled out from under you
and stood by the window where
I felt the waning summer
I remembered the look of the waning moon
outside that window just last night
she is gone now, I am not surprised

we all were waning, draining, thinning,
I asked her for one more night
but she could not
so I asked you silently to keep me warm
and you could not
and this too does not surprise me
it never was your job, was it?

It's hard now to remember the conditions we made
when the moon was as fat as the sun
and the sun took time to set and rise
and rising was so easy in the morning warmth
and the heat of you burned into me
and I never woke to close the window

of course these I recall
but now I think
no, that never was your job,
my mistake