The Morning After

Dark shadowy fingers

Of a blowing branch behind

The frosty glass door

Tickles the handle, tickles the letterbox

Offering her hand to hold, to comfort

And I sit, still surrounded by your love

Morning sunbeam pools a spotlight

On the silvery white ground

No sound

Then a red robin singing sweetly

Breaks into the void

With its tiny breath, invisible, but alive

And I sit, still surrounded by your love