not set
2003-08-20 13:52:09 (UTC)


She brings me coffee on countless mornings.
I forget when it started. It just did and now endures,
one of our rituals. Me, her and us.
I don't think about it anymore. Mostly
But today I caught myself thinking of her and
had an impulse to write and say I love you.
I wondered why, about the impulse that is, and momentarily
wanted to weep, surprised at the feeling.
I remembered the coffee and her hair,
concealing her face as she kneels to kiss me, beautiful.
And remembered.