Valentine's Day, our first apart. Are you not coming back? Where do I put this paper heart? The snow, the sleet last night this morning's year whites-out out world. They said you'd reappear once I let you go got rid of history's mess (the noise, the clutter I created) said you'd return to bless a quiet life share it again with me lend me one more swift chance to perfectly tell you how long I've loved and not let pride or fear from decades past lure me to hide my need, my hope or lately, fresh desire. Strange: thopse weeks, our words, how you'd admire some silly thing I'd done outfit I'd wear fresh thought or my unruly hair. Earlier seasons, you had not, but now you'd say over and over, as that day in ancient Rome: I love you. What wild sweet flight what daring ride we ended. Was I right to let you go? How can the earth make sense? Chilled cardinals huddle here and lightfooted horses black-paied at our fence.
From Fierce Day by Rose Styron. Copyright © 2015 by Rose Styron. Reprinted by permission of the author.