My breath shatters the
frozen ice of all
distinction.
Tomorrow I will clean
the corridors of my
thoughts but tonight
I will wait for the
mordant memories.
The red roses, in the
garden you planted
for me over
fifty years ago
do not grow inside
the cold Wisconsin
battering on my
window tonight
I have no Valentine
from you today.
No nor a whisper of
the door
closing behind you
By the quiet nurse
so long ago.
Caroline Shank
2.14.2024