How many things can cause a heart to break, to feel it’s own emptiness, to startle
awake
before the sun
before the dog, before the slumbering-beauty-child tip toes up the
cold stairs.
I go out.
Walk.
Peek at the early morning through straw colored strands, tangles, swollen eyes.
Slippered feet soak through to now soggy socks. A remnant of last night’s downpour,
a reminder
of my impulsiveness
And that I’m shivering.
It’s an aimless meander, I suppose, among the trees that have yet to yawn
to stretch
to roll out of the fog’s embrace.
And I am suddenly jealous.
The eternity of their affair
whispered at dusk
bold, heavy, wet, heaving
exhaled sweetly
to a brightening
lonely sky
swearing
never to tell
their
secrets.