Thoughts of you…Saturday Morning in March
Our bodies fit together like a certain madness ,
like fingers intertwined and hidden under covers
On ‘we’ve no plans yet’ Saturday mornings when rain crackles—
like beach fires against the windows..
we lay there, just outside of anxiety’s reach.
Ours would be a beautiful sadness
it’s already there in your eyes
for now-- we fit at least
and the rain doesn’t bother us much at all
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