Wednesday, October 06, 2010
What we forget
I remember the winter, loving the sight of his brown leather shoes on my living room floor. I remember the summer, his shirt hanging above me in a tree on a mountain. I remember last fall, wrapped in his arms, shivering from the cold and hopeful--and soon I'll remember his tanned, strong legs, his warm breath on the back of my neck, and all the times I knew he loved me.