As the rain putter-patters on the glass,
I wait for sight of his sweat sodden shirt,
Ready to greet him weary from work.
I'll run to him, and he'll catch me in his arms,
Grateful to see my cheerful young smile
And listen to the activities of my day.
Now I see him standing stolen in the window,
His face blurred by the rivulets of rain,
His hand propelling me toward work--Waiting...until I come back again.
This reminiscence brings nostalgia.
We are no longer two bodies who partake
In a recycled ordinary routine.
The innocence of childhood understanding--
Diminished by my adult mind,
Is cloistered by years of covert training:
To sever my life to avoid rejection.
Where did our easy comraderie go?
It fell through the crags and cracks
Of our meager connection-- depleted
The chasm of relating is widened
Where neither know how to cross the divide.
Preconceived reactions will ignite
There embittered strife into flames.
Love, being ill defined, causes wounds
Too naked and ravaged to keep immured.
<mbw
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