I trace the line of your profile: my finger gently moves down the bridge of your nose, across your mustache, now startlingly white, down your soft lips, a little dry, scoops along your chin. All is as familiar to me as my own. I think of edges, bumps of land along a COAST.

Across the bed lies an old PLAID blanket, remnant of some part of the past. Now, we are so blended, I can’t remember who or where or when.
I think of the PEARL cuff links that sit, unused, on the dresser. I start to stir, aware of this tangled up, messy life: bodies and bedclothes, yes – but also, so much past, cluttering the present, shaping the future

Georg’ann

Friend takes PAUSE to pet
her warm PEACH colored pooch,
PEARL, while snow cascades.

Heather