It isn’t that I dislike winter.
I don’t mind the cold,
The air is easier to breathe,
And the pewter colored sky is calming.
Winter was the last time
Her and I had a serious talk,
Though it wasn’t a long conversation.
In fact, she only said two words.
Just like that, winter was over.
No more nights sharing hot chocolate
Underneath the quilt her grandmother had stitched.
No more dinners of salmon and red wine
By the fireplace. No more feeling the warmth
Of her hands through her gloves as we
Window shop downtown at the Inner Harbor.
Then came spring. She called yesterday
“Just to check up” on me. “I’m fine.”
I wish that lie had disintegrated into
Puffs of gray smoke once it hit the sunlight.
“That’s good. I was worried about you;
That you didn’t take our breaking up well.”
That could be true, but, “Really, I’m fine.”
It is cold again today. Winter’s last hurrah.
I’m not upset; more annoyed that I have to
Dig through my clothes to find a sweater.
Funny, the first one I find is the one she
Gave to me last Christmas.
I don the cream colored pullover,
Then inspect my appearance in
The mirror. I say to my reflection,
“At least it was spring yesterday.
There’s always yesterday.”
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen