in 2020,
would I have been misled
if I tried to guess what was ahead?
closing 2021 at the end of your bed;
now 2022, waking next to you, my sleepyhead.
a year with you,
at the effect of something meant to stay left unsaid.
entailing late nights, children's movies, and baking bread.
all the while, sketching memories, wearing out my pencil's lead.
yet here we are;
round the sun again.
air cool, frozen ground, our cheeks and hands turning red.
