its too cold for me here.
too cold for the pieces of memories.
it is too cold for the thoughts
i have of you.
too cold for the dreams
i have at night.
when my feet are afraid of the floors
that bite at their toes,
i slink around a makeshift house
in socks....oh wretched things.
i sink deep into the shower,
and think of summer rains.
sand beneith my worn down feet,
and you dirty from head to toe
with mountian soil,
and road grit.
a new poem for faryn.
oh yes, another little bit of poetry....
i am pregnant.
nine weeks tomorrow...
i will have to write more about this when i have more energy, and i can keep my eyelids open for more than 30 seconds....off to lala land.zzzzz