| 
             Cold 
              Toes  
            Carol 
              Cross 
             
             The 
              furnace has kicked on, 
              its reassuring purr  
              rumbles beneath floorboards. 4am,  
              quiet time for insomniacs and snowflakes.   
             I 
              am awake; no one else is.   
             I 
              hear heavy breathing at my side, 
              no noise from the two rooms down the hall.  
              It's just me, the furnace and the dark. 
              I wonder if there is new snow.  
             I 
              want to get out of bed, 
              to peer out the window. But I don't.  
              Even through drawn shades  
              I see the glow outside.  
              I know it has to be new snow  
              reflecting light from street lamps.  
             Instead, 
              I snuggle close to the man at my side,  
              warming my toes, hoping not to wake him  
              but wishing he were awake.  
            
            The 
              2River View, 1_2 (Winter 1997)
 |