Thank you for leaving
your muddy work shoes
by the door.
You dropped your grey sox
beside them.
I found your shirt in the doorway
and your tee shirt in the hall,
still warm--like your chest
when you hold me close at night.
Your watch is on the dresser.
Your ragged blue jeans lay
where you stepped out of them
at the foot of the bed,
and your shorts lie outside
the bathroom door.
The party is at seven.
You�re hurrying.
I wonder if I should
interrupt your shower
to tell you
the party is tomorrow.
No.
I�ll open the wine.
We�ll have our own party
right here
tonight.
Mary [Ekholm] Francis
(c) 1996