in the early morning
i rise to let the cat outside
it had been calling out
and in my sleep
i heard it
the floor boards
are cold
and creak
as i walk on them
the sky is
the air frigid
the cat and i both pause
for a moment
in the doorway
in our own way
each of us take

in the stillness

too early
too long
nostalgia from childhood
decorating gingerbread houses
then a young boy
once more
with you
older with thin hair
and such rough hands
but with you